


Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

by False_Ginger



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gay Sex, Hilarity, M/M, Oral Sex, Violence, death(duh)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:23:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9104491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/False_Ginger/pseuds/False_Ginger
Summary: Ronald Knox is one of the newest students of the Grim Reaper Training Academy. His quick wit and intelligence quickly set him apart from his classmates, though so does his fiery temper and impulsive nature. It isn't long before he develops a troublesome fondness for his professor, William T. Spears, who happens to be about as warm and fuzzy as his pruning pole death scythe. Ronald's pursuit of his diploma also turns into a pursuit of the smallest and blackest heart in all of the Grim Reaper Dispatch.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fanfic I began over two years ago. I was hesitant to post because I wasn't sure I'd ever finish it. Still, after going back and re-reading it, I found that I loved it too much not to share. Because it is a bit old, there are details that aren't necessarily canon anymore within the fandom. For instance, Ronald has a mother that exists in the reaper realm, whereas William had been born a mortal. Because these sorts of details became so deeply woven into the story, I felt it would be too much effort to go back and write them out. Therefore, you'll all just have to accept it for what it is, as I have reluctantly done. 
> 
> Because this is such a massive piece (over 300 pages by now), I'll be trying to break up the chapters into about ten page segments to make it more manageable. Still, with editing and college work considered, please don't expect updates every day. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this wild ride of a story as much as I've enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Kuro belongs to Yana Toboso.
> 
> (Also, yes, the title is based on the old movie starring Marilyn Monroe, and I'm very, very proud of it.) :)

He could feel the eyes on him as he walked down the hall. Many were stodgy old wankers who didn’t like his cocky grin, loose tie, messy blond hair, and shiny white shoes, but many others were young ladies who ogled at him for those very same reasons. He was fresh out of the training academy, new meat, and about to embark on a whole new training class. He felt like he was on top of the world, ready for anything, and he knew for a fact that he, as a big strong dispatch trainee, could handle whatever nonsense his new instructor chose to toss his way. This was the final step to becoming a full-fledged member of London’s Grim Reaper Staffing Association, and he was more than ready to take the plunge.

He turned the corner toward his classroom, passing a cute little blond with a wink and a click of his tongue, and soon enough he stood at the door to study area 444. He peered in the small window for a moment to find at least one hundred students seated in the class, and a mean-looking fellow at the front of the room giving a lecture. With a deep breath, he gripped his study ledger a bit tighter and flung the heavy door open in a flourish.

“As you were, gentlemen,” Ronald shouted with a nonchalant salute, waltzing across the room jauntily until he took his seat in the front row. “Foxy Knoxie is present and ready to learn!” A chuckle sounded here and there, much to his delight, though they were instantly silenced when the evenly-paced sound of footsteps began across the room. Ronald looked around in confusion at his new classmates, seeing how some boasted wide eyes, some were still snickering, and others had buried their faces in their books altogether. A few heartbeats passed before he turned hesitantly to face the front again, though his vision was filled white skin and a black suit. There stood the tall, slender figure of his new professor, whose piercing green eyes seemed to stare directly into his student’s soul. William T. Spears.

“Ronald Knox, I presume,” the man said in a deep voice and cultured tongue. “You are precisely twenty minutes and forty-five seconds late for class. I would like for you to write me a five-page essay regarding the importance of punctuality. By tomorrow.” Ronald, utterly dumbfounded by the request, opened his mouth as if to say something in response, though his confident grin died from his lips in an instant and he found himself at a loss for words for the first time in his young life.

“S-sir,” he began as Mr. Spears turned to head back toward the front of the classroom, not seeming terribly willing to negotiate his punishment. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again!” he tried, though William had already begun scrawling a tidbit of information across the chalkboard. He wasn’t listening to the young man’s pitiful apology at all. With a huff, still in disbelief by the treatment he’d just received, Ronald crossed his arms and proceeded to glare at his new instructor until lunch.

“Now then, class, could anyone explain to me the vitality of updating one’s spectacle prescription every six months?” Mr. Spears asked the room, and while there was a fair handful of goody-two-shoes who raised their hands at the question, Ronald’s remained firmly crossed at his chest. When the bell rang, he was the first to leap from his seat and storm out of the stuffy study room.

“So where do ya come from, Ronnie?” a brown-haired classmate asked once a group of the men sat down at a lunch table. Ronald, feeling slightly more at ease around a favorable crowd, flashed a prideful grin at the other trainee.

“I transferred from Liverpool, greatest city that ever was,” he boasted, earning a chuckle from a few of the chaps.

“Are daddy’s pockets lined with gold?” a heavier fellow asked, digging into his stew rather messily. “London’s training academy ain’t cheap, and I’ve never heard of anybody comin’ here from Liverpool.” The blond wondered at first if it was meant to be an insult, but when he locked gazes with the other man, he found a playfulness in his eyes that told him otherwise.

“More like me mum’s,” he corrected, still smirking as he fished around for a nice, thick chunk of beef. They chatted for a while longer, Ronald inserting a well-timed jab here and there and earning raucous laughter each time he did. He thought perhaps he could get along with these guys, and that just maybe the big, bad dispatch wasn’t so big or bad after all. Even still, it was only his first day there, and when a dirty blonde-haired boy piped up about Mr. Spears, Ronald’s grin wavered slightly.

“They say he’s here at the exact same time each and every morning, and that some nights he doesn’t even leave his office. Like some sort o’ machine!” Some of the other lads nodded their heads in agreement, having heard similar stories. Another spoke up, even though he had a mouth full of food.

“I’ve heard that he once fired a guy for just lookin’ at him funny,” he said with a completely serious expression, and while some snorted in disbelief at that one, some still thought it to be true.

“Some bloke told me that he can talk the bra right off of any girl,” someone else said with filthy grin, and the whole lot of the men at the table burst into laughter, drawing stares from a few tables around them.

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it!” the same overweight fellow from before muttered, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. The brunette next to him nudged his arm and sneered.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t y’ Jones?” he asked, and Jones just shoved him back, though all in good nature. He turned toward Ronald, then, and his smile disappeared. “You better watch yourself, Ronnie,” he warned, and all of a sudden, all eyes were on the young blonde reaper. “You made a bad first impression on Spears, so you best be stepping on eggshells from now on.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mess with him,” a skinny lad named Thomas told him. “Spears doesn’t take any crap. This is my second go-around in this class.” Ronald cocked his head in slight confusion, furrowing his brow. “As in, he failed me my first year, just like that.”

“This is the second try for a lot of us,” Jones admitted. “We paid good money to become dispatch reapers, so we can’t just give it up in the blink of an eye. I tell y’, though, it’s no fun having to learn all of this shit over again.” The table seemed to sober a bit at that, falling silent for a few moments before the blonde, named Jonathan, looked at Ronald.

“So you gonna write that essay t’night, Ron?” he asked, not quite in a joking manner. Ronald was right scared after hearing so much about his new professor, though he managed to sneak his new mates a sly grin.

“We’ll see,” he replied vaguely. “If I feel like it, then I will. If a pretty girl comes a knockin’ at my door, then there’s not a chance in hell.” For the umpteenth time that day, Ronnie relished in the snickers of his peers, though Jonathan shook his head at him with a patronizing grin.

“Geezus, Ron,” he snorted, taking a swig of his milk. “You’re either really brave, or just really fuckin’ dumb.” Laughter overtook the table yet again, and Ronald joined in easily. He received a few pats on the shoulders, or the ruffling of his hair, though he took it all in stride. If he could make friends as effortlessly as this, then he ought to have no trouble getting off of Spears’ “naughty list.” He simply needed to rein in the youthful rambunctiousness that he was known for, if but only long enough to pass a few tests. He could do that much in a pinch.

The group returned to class after their break ended, and Mr. Spears continued his lecture on proper spectacle care. Ronald moved himself to the back with the rest of the rowdy lads, far away from the goody-goodies, and the front row, and most importantly—Mr. Spears. The young reapers chatted quietly, thinking themselves to be so very clever whispering out of their instructor’s earshot. What they didn’t know was that William could hear every word, though he let their puerility slide as he continued in his lesson. He would simply fail them and look forward to a fresh batch next year.

The next day arrived cruelly, after Ronald had gone out for a drink with his new mates. He had helped himself to a bit too much ale and woke up with an unforgiving hangover in someone else’s trainee dorm. He propped himself up on his shoulders and tried his hardest to remember where in the world he was, though when he saw Jones snoring loudly on the davenport near him, the memories came flooding back to him. This was Thomas’ living quarters.

A splitting pain in his head sent him straight back to lying on the floor, his face contorting into an expression of pain as he turned to bury his face in the pillow he’d been given. They were probably late for work, but he could have cared less at that point. All he really wanted to do was sleep off the god-awful pain, but when he felt a foot nudge him rather sharply, he whipped his head around to glare at its owner. “Leave me the hell alone,” he growled warningly, pointedly turning away then.

“Ron, we’re almost half an hour late for class!” Thomas said with urgency to his voice. At that, Jones stirred, and although he must have been suffering through immense pain as well, he shot off of the sofa and wobbled across the room to his blazer and shoes.

“Yeah, so? Can’t we just skip today?”

“Are you crazy?” Jones asked as he tossed on his suit jacket. “Spears will kill us if we don’t show up! You miss one day, and you fall behind like you wouldn’t believe.” Ronald, knowing that he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep at that point, forced himself to sit upright and watch the other two hurriedly getting ready for class.

“Nah, I don’t buy it,” Ronald huffed, wiping his nose on his arm and giving a wide yawn. “All he was spoutin’ yesterday was about specs, and I already knew all that. What could be so different about today?”

“He’ll notice we’re gone and assign some crazy detailed paper that’s based on exactly what he taught in class that day. Then we fail. He’s done it before! Last year. I would know.” Jones gasped then, fixing Ronald with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. “Ron, your essay! You didn’t do it!” The blond reaper just sniffed at him like it was no big deal, but he couldn’t deny the sinking of his heart at the realization. After all of the horror stories he’d been hearing about the class and about Mr. Spears, he truly didn’t want to fail and have to take the whole thing over again. What happened to getting off of Spears’ bad side? His heart began to race in a mild sort of fear, especially considering the fact that he had absolutely no time to write that ridiculous essay. It would take the reapers ten minutes or so to drive around that suburb of the reaper acropolis to the dispatch, so perhaps he could crank out a half-assed attempt at a paper in that time. Maybe Spears wouldn’t even read it and just look at how many pages he’d written. The chances were slim, he knew, that he was just grasping at straws by then, but he needed something to reassure himself that he hadn’t just royally messed up his changes at graduating from the final training course.

The three reapers rushed from the dorm looking like they’d just passed through a hurricane. Ties askew. Hair disheveled. Faces flushed. It was quite a sight, to say in the least. Even still, they piled into Thomas’ junky, little vehicle, the likes of which had not yet been invented in the mortal realm, and began speeding across the city to get to the dispatch complex. Now was Ronald’s chance to take out a piece of notebook paper and a dull pencil and scrawl down what he found so important about punctuality. Oh, how he was feeling the irony.

The trio dashed into the office building by the time the clock struck twenty to nine, exactly forty minutes after class was to start. Ronald clutched onto his paper tightly as they ran madly down the halls, wrinkling it in the process. They received reprimanding glances from their elders as they passed them, some mumbling quietly to themselves and some shaking their heads, and Ronald felt an unreasonable sense of guilt overcome him when he heard one of the reapers speak aloud.

“Younger generations have no respect for their work.” The blond craned his neck to see an elderly reaper standing there with a traditional sickle scythe in hand and a thick white moustache claiming his upper lip. He looked so dignified, even as he hobbled down the hall to his office after passing the younger men. Ronald couldn’t help but think that he had worked very hard to get his position, and here they all were, tossing away the golden opportunity presented.

Dispatch reapers were recognized and respected in the reaper realm as being soldiers of sorts, heroes for their brave and selfless work, even though much of the job consisted of tedious pencil-pushing. Some establishments, like restaurants and super markets, gave discounts to dispatch reapers out of gratitude for their work, and while this wasn’t the case everywhere in the reapers cities, the respect was prevalent throughout the land.

Ronald didn’t have time to cloud his mind with such thoughts, however, now more than ever as they neared the classroom door and what was sure to be an uncomfortable confrontation. Thomas glanced back at his two wide-eyed mates before he opened said accursed door, as quietly as he could manage. Despite the effort, all eyes were fixed on the three young men as they crept into the room with their tails in-between their legs. Ronald didn’t dare look toward the front desk, where Mr. Spears likely was near, though he could feel the man’s emerald gaze burning into him as he sheepishly made toward an open seat.

He peered toward the back of the room, where a few of his other drinking companions from the previous night sat. They had those same dark bags under their pity-filled eyes, though at least they appeared to have made it in time to class. “Gentlemen.” The low voice seemed to boom across the classroom as Jones, Thomas, and Ronald sat down in the only seats left. In the front row. “You are precisely forty minutes and fifty seconds late for class. I would like for each of you to write me a ten-page research essay providing insight into what the lives of reapers are like who fail my class and are forced to drop out of the program altogether. I believe you will find a few of my former students currently employed at establishments such as the ‘Speedy Turtle’ petrol station or at ‘Jim’s Jumpin’ Burgers’ fast food restaurant. Due in two days. Do I make myself clear?” It was an indirect slap in the face, and the three young reapers knew this perfectly well as they sputtered confirmation to Mr. Spears that he had, indeed, made himself clear.

They held their breath in hopes that their punishment was over, and for Thomas and Jones this was true, though Ronald swore his heart stopped beating when that stoic man began approaching him, his thin lips drawn in a grim line. “Mr. Knox, have you my paper?” He loomed over the little blond, who held out his crumpled, two-paged mess of an essay. He cursed the cowardly quiver of his own hand as his instructor took it and raised an eyebrow at him. That look said it all. He was done. Mr. Spears was going to flip out at him. He was going to fail the class. Ronald bowed his head in shame as the raven-haired man read over his work. Regardless of his fears, his professor spoke in an even tone.

“In addition to the essay I’ve just assigned to you,” he said with a slight sigh, “I would like for you to redo this travesty. You get one chance throughout the year to use this privilege, and I suggest you take advantage of it now.” Ronald dared to glance up at him, finding those dark green eyes staring right back at him, unblinking and cold. “You are lacking three pages, firstly, you have written it on lined paper, secondly, and lastly, I cannot read a single word of your handwriting. Have you not read the syllabus, Ronald Knox? It clearly states that I only accept essays typed on lineless, unwrinkled paper.” He dropped the papers and let them flutter back onto Ronald’s desk, his dark eyebrows knitting together.

“This is your second offense in two days,” he stated. “I am not impressed.” With that, he turned on his heel and back toward the front of the room to continue the lecture that the three young men had interrupted. Ronald hardly caught a word of it as he stewed in his own anxiety. He needed to get his act together. No more messing around.

For the next few days, he held true to his word, completing both of the petty punishment essays and turning them in on time. He had chosen to pay a visit to the “Speedy Turtle” for the ten-page essay, where he found not one, but two of Mr. Spears former students. They were scrawny fellows with long brown hair of different shades, and they didn’t have a boatload of compliments toward Mr. Spears, needless to say. Ronald, despite feeling rather uncomfortable in doing so, interviewed the two men and found out their current wages, their level of happiness, and the regret they felt, explicitly, at not focusing more diligently in the class. Properly terrified, Ronald returned to his dorm that evening with a strict determination to complete his assignments. His roommate, Anthony, seemed less-than-pleased at being kept up so late.

The skinny brunette glared ruthlessly at the blond as he flicked on the lights and began typing away, the cramped living quarters filling with the sound of clicking keys. “Ronald, I am trying to sleep,” he complained in his nasally voice. “I hear that Mr. Spears may implement a pop quiz tomorrow, and I need as much sleep as I can get.” Ronald simply rolled his eyes as he glanced over some of what he’d written in his interview. He couldn’t have been bothered to give a toss about Anthony just then.

“Wot, need yer beauty sleep? Man up.” It was rude, and he knew it, but even after only four days with the weak little reaper, including the time it took them to move in before class, he understood that they were polar opposites. Anthony loved reading romance novels, and playing his flute far too early in the morning, and studying for hours upon hours, and avoiding alcohol like the plague. But most of all, he adored complaining. Four days. That was all he’d known him for, and he was already driving Ronald batty.

“Just because you’re destined to fail doesn’t give you the right to drag down everyone else!”

Ronald merely flipped him off over his shoulder, though in all honesty, the words resonated in him slightly. What did that little brat know? They had just started class two days ago. He still had a significant chance at passing with flying colors. What did any of them know? He bit his lip as he continued to type.

An hour passed, and he had about four pages written. Another passed, and he had seven. Another passed, and he finally had the interview paper done and ready to be printed off and handed to Mr. Spears. Now all he had left was the essay on punctuality. How in the name of Hades was he supposed to do that anyway? He could explain the importance of being on time in two sentences, but how could he milk it into five whole pages? Even still, he opened a fresh document and dove in as best he could.

An hour passed, he had one page. Another hour, one and a half pages. Another hour, two. He sat at his computer with bloodshot eyes and a body screaming to get to bed, though he knew that this had to be completed. He wasn’t going to let himself fall further into the hole he’d dug, not when he was only two ridiculously short days into the final step in his training. He racked his brain for anything and everything to do with the significance of punctuality, and after a few more painful minutes, he found his answer.

He began typing away furiously, listing off important events in history and how they could have been dramatically altered had those involved not been punctual. After this, he began writing in regards to the general cordiality that is associated with being on time, and how lateness could be easily translated into a lack of respect for those kept waiting. As this fresh wave of ideas came over him, he lost track of the time and absorbed himself fully into his essay, until he had exactly five pages written. With a grand sigh and a wide grin, he looked over his work once more before shutting down his computer and preparing for bed.

Never had he experienced such a satisfying sleep in the entirety of his young life.

The next morning, he woke up a little earlier than he was used to in order to print off his documents and slip them into slick plastic casings. He even went so far as to lift them to his nose and breathe in the scent of the paper, though he was glad that none of his mates were there to witness such a bizarre display. Anthony rubbed at his eyes when he heard the shuffling about the room, and he was a little surprised to find that Ronald was up before him.

“Did you stay up all night?” the shorter man asked, yawning as he sat upright in his striped pajamas. Ronald merely glanced over his shoulder at his roommate, not even paying mind to the fact he was standing there in front of him wearing nothing more than a pair of bright orange boxers, as was his favorite color.

“Nah, I just got up early to print off my essays,” he said disinterestedly, stripping down to toss on a new pair of boxers. As he started slipping on his suit trousers, he looked at the scrawny man again to find him smirking at him in a peculiar way. Had he enjoyed seeing him naked? The thought disturbed Ronald. “What?”

“You finished all of your work and got up early? Perhaps we will get along after all.” There was such a desperate sort of hopefulness to his voice that the blond simply didn’t have it in him to cut him down, as much as he would have liked to. And so, Ronald simply flashed him a fleeting, half-assed smile. When Anthony rose from the bed and pulled his little flute case from his bookshelf, though, Ronald wished he had said something. Anything but that damned bloody flute.

Ronald left the dorm half an hour earlier than he was used to, mostly to escape Anthony ceaselessly practicing his chromatic scales, though he looked forward to having the extra time to eat breakfast at the cafeteria that morning. When he arrived in the large, white dining hall, he found that Thomas, Jones, and a few of the other guys were already sitting there and stuffing their faces with bacon and eggs and everything else that made Ronald’s mouth water. He waved at them and they returned the gesture, Thomas leaping from his seat to greet the fellow blonde with a grin.

“Hey, Ron. Finish your paper?” He followed the blond as he picked up his tray and began along the buffet, helping himself to seconds. Ronald grinned back as he heaped a massive pile of scrambled eggs onto his tray.

“Yup, finished both of ‘em by three in the morning. You?”

“Oof, three? That’s rough,” Thomas clicked his tongue sympathetically. “Yeah, I have mine done, too. I finished around ten, then me and Jones went out for drinks until midnight or so.” He grabbed the serving spoon from Ronald and nudged his shoulder. “Christ, save some for the rest o’ us, yeh?” Ronald sniffed in a sort of laugh as he moved down the buffet toward the sausages.

“Yeah, I guess you need it more than I do, y’ bag of bones. And why didn’t y’ invite me to the pub?” He snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye, and he saw Thomas shrug.

“We thought about it,” he assured him, “but Jones and I don’t want y’ to end up like us, Ronnie. We don’t want y’ to fail, so for a while, until you get the hang of things, you’re forbidden from joining us at the pub.” Ronald laughed at first, thinking that he was just joking with him, but when he saw the serious expression on Thomas’ narrow face, his chuckling ceased.

“What, wasn’t I any fun two nights ago?” he asked in a teasing manner, though he held a real doubt in his heart all of a sudden.

“That’s not it, Ronnie. Really. I wouldn’t be sayin’ this if I didn’t mean it.” Thomas sighed as he grabbed the tongs for the bacon and took a few strips of the greasy meat. “Jones and I are gonna be flat broke after this year, since we blew so much last year. We thought class was gonna be a breeze after how easy the training academy was, that this was just a refresher before we started the real thing, but we were dead wrong, and now we’re payin’ for it.” He extended an arm and clapped Ronald on the shoulder, jostling his tray and nearly sending some food falling to the floor. “Make good use of that rich Mummy’s money and get good grades.” Ronald was silent for a moment as he left the buffet to get some juice at the machine, and Thomas followed to get another can of orange juice as he’d had before. “That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, though, okay? I like you, kid, and I feel like I’ve known you for a lot longer than two bloody days.”

Ronald didn’t know how to react at first, thinking to become upset at what he thought was snubbing, but Thomas had those strange sort of eyes that one couldn’t help but trust. He gave him a crooked and uncertain smile, still unsure whether or not he could take him absolutely seriously. “Okay, Tom. Thanks for lookin’ out for me.”

With that, the two young men carried their trays to the table and not one more somber word was spoken. Ronald laughed and joked, at ease having such pleasant company though itching to hand his papers in. He stuffed his face with as much food as he could fit into twenty minutes or so, leaving the dining hall a few minutes before class started so that he could arrive early. The other guys said they didn’t want to have to be there any sooner than they had to, so Ronald just shrugged and labeled them “lazy-arses” before heading down the hall toward Room 444.

He clutched his messenger bag a little tighter as he swung open the heavy door. Some goodies were already there, organizing their material and studying their notes, though they hardly paid any mind as the blond entered the room. Mr. Spears was there too, of course, sitting behind his grand desk and sipping at a mug of coffee. He had been signing a pair of documents when Ronald entered, though when he peered up from his work, he was mildly surprised to find the cocky little reaper approaching him. He raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ronald Knox, you are early,” he said with amusement lacing his tone, setting down the documents momentarily. “Why ever is that?” Ronald merely smirked at him as he plopped his bag down atop his professor’s desk rather rudely, though that was not his intention. He rummaged around in it for a moment before retrieving his essays, crisp inside their protective casings. With an undisguised pride in his grin, he held them out for Mr. Spears to take.

“Here, sir,” he beamed. “My papers are done.” William adjusted his glasses and he took the papers, and Ronald swallowed as he watched those chilling eyes examine his work.

“I can read them this time,” the professor mused mockingly, “And they seem to have the correct number of pages.” With that, that cold gaze moved to connect with Ronald’s, and the latter felt a little shiver run along his spine. “Are you certain you wish to hand in the paper I assigned just yesterday? It is one day early.” Ronald wondered for a moment if he shouldn’t take it back and check it over once more, but he reminded himself that he was proud of this work and that it wouldn’t be wise to fiddle with it much more.

“Yes, sir,” Ronald confirmed, and William quirked his brow higher.

“Very well, I only hope that its quality isn’t compromised.” As he set the essays to the side of his desk, William glanced over at Ronald once more. “I will be reading over your work, as well as Mr. Putney’s and Mr. Whittaker’s, during the lunch hour. You will receive your grades by the end of the day. Have you any questions?” The blond pursed his lips as he pondered, though he couldn’t think of another thing to say, which was fine considering that his mouth had grown terribly dry. Then, all of a sudden, an entirely unreasonable question popped into his mind and his face flushed a deep red.

Would you ever want to go out for coffee sometime?

His mind shut it out before he could even fully process it, though, and he just shook his head at his professor. Where the hell would something like that come from? He furrowed his brow in bafflement as he turned on his heel and began away from William to seat himself toward the front of the room. Was he that desperate to get on the man’s good side all of a sudden that he would be willing to kiss ass like that? He had no idea.

The rest of the class shuffled in, and for the first time that week, no one was late, not even by a second. Mr. Spears, seemingly satisfied that all of his students had chosen to be well-behaved that day after the lecture, had chosen to withhold the pop quiz. Instead, he assigned a small two-paragraph paper on the information he’d taught in class that day, though he made it very clear that he wanted perfection from each and every one of his pupils.

When the final bell rang and the clock reached three in the afternoon, most of the students left as they normally would, but Ronald, fidgety and anxious to see what he’d received on his essays, lingered behind. Thomas and Jones stayed as well, and they all marched up to Mr. Spears’ desk at the same time. William glanced at the three men over the top of his glasses before holding out a paper to Thomas, who stood farthest on his right. He took hold of it, biting his lip, and gave a sigh when he saw that he’d gotten a rank of three on his work.

In reaper grading scales, every student was typically ranked from one to five based on how well they completed an assignment. One was the very highest one could earn, and five was a failing grade, put simply. Thomas was perfectly happy with his middle-of-the-road grade, and he gave Mr. Spears a little smile. “Thank you, sir,” he said honestly, curbing his cockney politely.

“Your work was rather choppy in several areas, and you failed to provide citations, though as a whole, it is a decent paper.” After sending Thomas away, still grinning and looking over the notes Mr. Spears had written for him. Next, William looked toward Jones, who had been standing in the middle. His round face was dusted a dark shade of pink, blatantly nervous as William handed him his paper. He was almost certain that he’d failed. When he saw the four written elegantly at the top, he was relieved, but not too pleased. Four was nothing to jump up and down in celebration over, after all.

“Thanks, Mr. Spears,” the heavy-set lad said half-heartedly, sighing inwardly as he thought about how it would affect his overall grade.

“You have skill in structuring a paper, Mr. Whittaker, though your grammar leaves something to be desired. I found a great many places where the wording was terribly awkward and confusing. Seeking a tutor may sound harsh, though it could greatly benefit you in the future. Writing will remain a large part of your career should you strive to remain in dispatch. Some of the men whom I consider to be my finest reapers are those who write the most seamless reports. Bear that in mind.” Jones paled slightly at the critique, suddenly not as happy with his grade, though he simply lowered his head and gave a nod.

“I understand, sir,” he mumbled, and Ronald glanced over at him with concern in his eyes. He wondered if Jones would have the money to hire a tutor, considering what Thomas said earlier that morning.

“Very good,” William breathed. “Do not be disheartened. You are dismissed, Jones Whittaker.” Jones turned and began toward the door, locking eyes with Ronald for a moment as if to wish him good luck as he passed him.

Ronald heard the door softly click, and then he and Mr. Spears were all alone in the grand study hall. He dared to peek at William’s face as the man looked over his essays one last time. It intimidated Ronald that he couldn’t read his expression at all. Had he done well? Had he failed miserably? He couldn’t tell for the life of him, and the anticipation was driving him crazy. William glanced up when Ronald began tapping his palms against the tops of his thighs, his eyes trailing slowly along his body until his piercing eyes met with the boy’s. “Are you nervous, Knox?” he asked with the very same amusement he had felt earlier in the day.

“Yeah, sir,” Ronald chuckled uneasily, cursing himself for making his distress so apparent. With one last glimpse at the work, William held them out for the blond to see. A little more eagerly than he’d intended, Ronald grasped the papers and grew numb.

Two. He’d gotten a bloody two.

The corners of Ronald’s mouth quirked upward at the sight of it, and he heaved a great sigh. “Thank you, Mr. Spears, sir,” he said with a slight chuckle to his voice, his eyes never wandering from the two written in red ink at the top of his essay. He almost thought that if he was to remove his gaze from it, it would float away from him. He wasn’t going to take that chance.

“You were very concise in the ten-page essay, a quality I appreciate personally,” Mr. Spears told him, weaving his fingers together atop the rich wood of his desk. “I have no patience for what I call ‘fluff,’ and you used very little of it. You properly cited your interviewees and framed their quotes well, though perhaps one area of improvement I’d consider would be the fact you tend to repeat important words almost redundantly. It simply makes your work a touch harder to read, less smooth.” He paused to adjust his glasses, Ronald’s prideful little smirk not escaping him.

“As for your essay on punctuality, you offered fresh views that indeed exhibited the importance of being on time. However, I was quite tempted to mark this paper with a three due to how poorly it is organized. You have an intriguing set of points, though the order in which you set them doesn’t make for an entirely cohesive paper. Do you understand?” Ronald’s grin dissipated a touch, brought back down to reality by the mild critique, though he nodded in reply.

“Yeah, I’ll remember that next time,” he said with a note of determination.

“I shall hold you to that,” William sighed as he began organizing the contents of his briefcase. Once the little metal clasps clicked shut, he rose from his desk and loomed over Ronald, fixing him once again with those entrancing eyes. “I do hope that you continue along this path, and stay far from how you chose to behave the first two days of my class. Through these papers I was able to see the potential in you, Ronald Knox. Do not let that inflate your ego, though I expect you to keep up the good work.” He began walking toward the door, his tall, slender frame brushing past Ronald. The younger man stared after him for a heartbeat before following him as a loyal puppy would. Mr. Spears held the door open for Ronald as he neared him, though the blond paused and gave the taller man a sincere smile.

“Thank you for this, sir,” he said, lowering his gaze slightly.

“I only gave you what I felt you deserved,” William responded monotonously, the glare of the light hiding his eyes behind his glasses. “Do not disappoint me in the future.”


	2. Chapter 2

Later that evening, Ronald, Jones, and Thomas went out to eat at a well-known deli on the corner in front of dispatch to celebrate the fact that they’d all passed their essays. Ronald had lied and told the other two guys that he’d gotten a three on his paper, not really wanting to be an arse and brag about his two. Jones still seemed a little mellow. “Smile, Jonesy,” Thomas encouraged, patting him on the back. “Y’ didn’t fail, and we only got one lousy mark above ya.” Jones furrowed his brow and shrugged Thomas’ hand from his shoulder, running his fingers through his dark hair and heaving a sigh. 

“Well death, it’s not that,” he muttered, propping his chin in his palm. “Spears said I should hire a tutor if I want to improve any, and I can’t afford that right now. You know that, Tom.” 

“Yeah, I know. We’re both in the same boat.” Thomas took a large bite of his sandwich, then, and nudged Ronald on the shoulder. “Thanks for paying, Ronnie. It means a lot.” The younger blond simply shrugged; it was no skin off of his nose, after all. He intended to pass that year, and said intention was shown through his spending habits. He wouldn’t have to scrape for pennies in order to pay for an extra year of schooling because he didn’t need it. It was a tad presumptuous, yes, but Ronald was confident in himself. 

“No prob,” Ronald replied easily, munching on his salami sandwich. He glanced over at Thomas to see him grinning ear-to-ear, and he followed his gaze to a pretty brunette waitress across the diner. He gave a low, quiet whistle, and Jones turned to look at her too. 

“Ain’t she a lovely,” Thomas chuckled, grabbing Jones’ shoulder and shaking him slightly. “Why don’t y’ go and talk to her, Jones?” The heavy-set reaper glanced down at his empty plate and gave a sigh.

“You really think I should go for it?” he asked, his self-consciousness showing through that friendly and carefree exterior he tried to keep up. 

“’Course I do,” Thomas insisted, as if it was obvious. “Who could resist that face?” He reached out to pinch one of the larger man’s cheeks, and Jones smacked him away with a soft laughter. “Besides, you haven’t had a dame since…since Angela, right?” Ronald watched them converse as he ate his meal, watching as the brunette walked past their table and to the back of the deli. She was cute, he’d admit, though nothing he was interested in. He then looked back at his mates to find that they were practically wrestling in their seats, and he cracked a wide grin. 

“Geezus, you two are an embarrassment,” he laughed loudly, taking a gulp of his soda. He could see the history between Thomas and Jones, though, and he wondered just how long they’d known each other. Since last year, that was blatant enough, but how long before that? Ronald suddenly found himself longing for such a close friend to have to himself, though that wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy Thomas and Jones’ company. What Thomas had said earlier was true when he said that he felt like they’d known each other for so much longer than a few measly days. 

 

The next few weeks passed by rather quickly, and Ronald kept up diligently in his assignments throughout all of this time. He’d been receiving consistent twos on each and every one of his assignments, except for one where Mr. Spears had actually had the heart to give him a one. He practically danced for joy when he caught sight of that one. Not in front of his professor, though. 

He and Mr. Spears had almost come to a sort of understanding, so vastly different from his first days of class. He continued to give Ronald his high marks, and Ronald would continue to work just as hard. It was a good and comfortable pattern they’d developed, though that wasn’t to say William T. Spears wouldn’t fail him if the little blond chose one day to slack on his work. Thankfully, Ronald understood that he wasn’t a man to play favorites, and that he was simply giving him what he felt he deserved. However, much to Ronald’s puzzlement, that same question that had popped into his head weeks before remained at the back of his mind, growing evermore present and pressing. The blond reaper couldn’t figure out why that was. 

Thomas and Jones still managed to hang on with their low grades, though they walked a fine line, to say in the least. Ronald noticed that Jones had lost some weight that month, and he wondered if he was having to skip some meals in order to pay for the tutor he had decided to hire. He almost wanted to offer to pay for his food some days, but he knew that it was a matter of masculine pride, and stepping on Jones’ toes in such a way could put a strain on their growing friendship. If it grew to be too bad, however, Ronald would interject and insist. 

Thomas had gained the courage to speak to that cute little waitress from the deli, and she’d agreed to go out on a date with him. To Ronald’s knowledge, they were in a happy relationship thus far, but he hadn’t seen Thomas enough as of late to ask him about it. He was too busy fawning over the comely brunette, named Eliza.

Ronald met a new friend in class, a perky little spitfire with spikey dark hair named Samuel. He enjoyed frequenting the pub, and while the blond was loath to join him for the sake of his own grades, he indulged once in a while. Sam loved billiards, and he was rather good at it, so he pushed Ron to team up with him and hustle a few blokes at one of the pubs he visited often, Spade’s. Of course, they sometimes ended up collecting the money they earned and making a dash so as to avoid being roughed up, but Ronald had to admit that the bills felt nice in his hands, so it made the mischief worth it. 

“Ronnie, wanna go to Spade’s tonight?” Sam asked him one day after class, sauntering up to the blond with his hands tucked in his pockets. Ronald looked at the shorter man with a furrowed brow, and shrugged in uncertainty. 

“I dunno, Sam,” the blond sighed. “Mr. Spears assigned that essay today, and I want to finish a good chunk of it tonight. Maybe tomorrow.” Sam groaned suddenly, and very loudly, drawing some glances from passing reapers as they continued down the hall. 

“C’mon, Ron,” the fiery lad spat. “Spears can take his papers and shove ‘em up his tight little arse.” Ronald stopped and turned to face Sam full-on, a glare forming across his handsome face. 

“No, Sam,” he said firmly. “I want t’ work on my paper tonight.” He started to walk again, and Sam stared after him for a moment before running after him to catch up. 

“Aww, does Spears have you on a string? Are you his little puppet?” He teased Ronald as they made their way around the corner to the front corridor, jabbing him obnoxiously in the ribs. The blond simply shrugged him off, not even looking at him as he did so. “You tryin’ to kiss his arse? Do you have a little crush on Ol’ Mr. Spears?” Ronald was sorely tempted to turn and clock the brat in his jaw, but he wasn’t expecting the next words that spilled from his own mouth, perhaps simply to shut him up. 

“Fine, I’ll bloody go with you!” Ronald shouted into his face, and Sam’s eyes widened. A little smirk played at the smaller lad’s lips suddenly, and he reached up to drape an arm across his friend’s shoulders. 

“Great, we’ll drink until the sky’s green, and the ground is blue,” he said in satisfaction. “I’ll met y’ there at seven, yeah?” Ronald shrugged out of his touch again, his jaw clenched in annoyance as he gave him a terse nod. “Okay, see y’ later, Ron.” With that, the impetuous reaper sped off in the direction of his own dorm, leaving Ronald alone to his frustration. In truth, the paper wasn’t due for a few days, he supposed, but he’d wanted to get a little head start on it. A drink was tempting, yes, but he knew that he had a tendency to overdo it, and so he tried to stay away altogether. He would just have to watch himself, set a limit of three drinks so that he didn’t wake up in a disgraceful state.

His fists balled up when he thought of the sneering manner in which Sam had spoken to him. Ron could take a joke. Hell, some even called him the king of wit, but something rubbed him the wrong way when he talked about Mr. Spears in such a belittling way. The blond had developed a deep respect for William not only as a capable instructor, but also as a man, plain and simple. He had learned to wade through the rumors that were often spread in jest of the stoic reaper and found some sources who possessed genuine and true information.

William had graduated from the academy with average marks, back when the academy still implemented the letter grading system, but he’d risen to the highest position in dispatch at a younger age than any reaper before him. He was also known for his great skill with his scythe, and, apparently, he taught a course regarding the most effective battle techniques in his spare time. According to the man Ronald had spoken to, though, William having spare time was a rare sight.

What surprised the young reaper the most, though, was the fact that Mr. Spears’ day didn’t end after class, like his did. Rather, he would make his way down to the dispatch’s managerial sect and carry out his duties as London’s Dispatch Supervisor. His shift lasted until six-thirty, yet he once heard somebody tell him that he’d seen him there was late as eleven in the evening completing overtime work. Ronald didn’t even want to think about what time the man woke up in the morning. It was almost as if William was suicidal, to want to take on so much work. Even still, he maintained the reputation of a devoted leader to all of London, and if Ronald pursued his career in the grand city, Mr. Spears would be his boss. The idea actually appealed to him.

On the other hand, some reapers spoke of how they’d never heard of him being romantically involved with anyone, even though after such a long life, that couldn’t possibly be true. He had a small following of women who sought his attention, supposedly, but he hadn’t the slightest interest in them. His work was his life, and he had no time to spend on trying to uphold a steady relationship, or at least that’s what his employees deduced, but the whole idea sounded so sad to the blond. So sad…

Ronald snapped from his daydreaming and found that his heart was beating at a curiously quickened pace. He paused and leaned against the wall, placing a hand to his chest as if he were shocked. The realization of what it was struck him like a bolt of lightning, and he gasped out loud as he came to the conclusion.

He had a crush on his professor.

His eyes widened as the concept solidified in his mind. Yes, it had to be true. For the past week, especially, he’d started yearning to learn more about his austere and handsome superior. Why would any normal student seek out people to get the inside scoop on his teacher? They wouldn’t. It was ludicrous. Feeling almost sick at himself, Ronald began walking again, set for his dorm to lie down for a while. All of a sudden, a drink or two sounded terribly appealing.

He rounded a corner and ran smack into some bloke, sending his papers fluttering to the floor in a grandiose flourish. Ronald shot the other man an impressive glare. “Hey, watch it, you bloody twa—” He cut himself off when the papers cleared and he got an eyeful of the last man he wanted to see just then. Of course it had to be William. “M-Mr. Spears, I’m so sorry!” He stood there rather dumbly for a moment as the taller man knit his brow in mild annoyance.

“Distracted today, Mr. Knox?” he asked with a quiet sigh, stooping to begin gathering his files. “Do be more careful next time please.” Ronald’s heart was beating so loudly in his ears that he was afraid the other man could hear it, though he dropped clumsily to his knees to try and help him collect his papers nonetheless.

“Yes, sir, I will,” he assured, sneaking a glance at the elder reaper whom he was now so very close to. As they finished picking up each of the documents, Ronald handed William his share and lowered his head in supposed shame. “Again, I’m really sorry about all this.” Mr. Spears swept his eyes through each of the papers before tucking them back into their file and fixing his eyes on Ronald.

“It is alright, Knox,” he said flatly. “Until tomorrow, then.” With that, he walked past the blond and continued in his previous path, likely toward his office at the other end of the building. Seemingly frozen in his place, Ronald watched him go, even going so far as to allow his eyes to trail down toward the taller reaper’s rear end. He heaved a sigh.

Yeah, he had it bad.

At the pub later that night, Ronald sat with his chin resting in his palm, staring blankly at the stacks of clean steins and glasses behind the counter. His other hand rested around a bottle of ale, though it was his first drink and he hadn’t even gotten half way through it. Sam, meanwhile, was practically bouncing off of the walls.

“Ronnie ol’ boy ol’ pal,” he slurred comically as he sauntered toward the blond with a wide grin. He flung an arm around his shoulder and leaned in close to his face, so near that he could smell the alcohol on him. “Did y’ know there’s a lovely blond doll that’s been starin’ at you for quite some time now?” He squeezed Ronald’s shoulder and pointed across the room in what the drunken reaper felt was a discreet gesture. “See her? By the back door? She must be too shy to come up here herself, poor thing. Want me to go and talk to her for ya?” Ronald did indeed see her sitting back there, and it didn’t escape him how her eyes would flicker to meet with his and then quickly dart away. She was attractive, he couldn’t deny that.

Sam had already started across the room by the time he realized what was going on, and he stumbled after him quickly so as to avoid an awkward situation. “Sam!” he shouted after him, catching his arm as he neared her. “Sam, I’ll do it.” He held out a reaper pound note for the other man to take. “Here, go buy yourself another drink.” Sam didn’t need to be told twice, and the ever-fickle reaper snatched the money away and meandered back toward the bar unsteadily.

With a sigh, Ronald tucked his wallet away again, and a low, sultry voice met his ears. “Was that your friend?” He looked up and was face-to-face with the most beautiful blond woman he’d ever seen, and she looked almost sinfully young.

“Yeah,” he said absently, unable to keep himself from staring into those playful green eyes and glistening ruby lips. “Sorry about him. He has a tendency to be a bit of a twat.” The woman moved over in her booth, implying that she wanted him to join her, and Ronald wasn’t about to argue with her. As he slid in next to her, his nostrils filled with a sickly-sweet perfume and his eyes with endless strands of golden-blond curls.

“It’s alright,” she insisted, “I have friends like that, too. What’s your name?” Ronald stared into her eyes, and she stared right back at him, neither of them missing the lust that they saw there. Ronald began leaning toward those bright red lips that seemed to be beckoning him ever closer, his body seeming to move involuntarily at that point.

“Ron Knox,” he said at last, before their lips connected and they lost themselves in mindless passion, right there in the bar booth. She tasted so wonderfully sweet, like cherry and sugar, and the way her lips moved over his was a credit to just how experienced she was. Ronald didn’t care, she was a lovely little distraction from all of the troublesome thoughts whirling through his head. He wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to get a good snogging, after all.

“Scarlet,” she murmured breathily between kisses, though Ronald wasn’t paying attention anyway. He was too focused on the task at hand, and he was quite good at it. He prided himself on his ability to write quality essays and to wield a scythe, yes, but he was most proud of just how irresistibly good a kisser he was. And the woman could tell.

She writhed in the seat, pressing her ample bosom up against his chest as they became more heated, and she moaned when Ronald’s hands moved along her hips and kneaded the flesh through her crimson dress. “Fuck me,” she whispered suddenly into his mouth, and Ronald paused in his affections.

“Wot?” he asked, pulling away slightly.

“I said fuck me, Ron Knox,” she repeated, tugging at his lapels and placing a kiss below his jawline.

“What, right bloody here?” he snickered, glancing over his shoulder to see where Sam had run off to. The little spitfire stood near a group of girls and was trying rather desperately to get their attention. Ronald chuckled again and looked back at Scarlet, awaiting an answer.

“No, in the loo,” she corrected him, releasing his collar and running her hands along the front of his suit, all the way down until the squeezed at what lay between his legs. “I’ll do things to you you’ll never forget.” Ronald couldn’t help but believe her every word, but he couldn’t do it.

“Sorry, love, I don’t do that sorta thing,” he informed her decisively, leaning back in the seat, and it took a moment for the comely young woman to process what he’d said. Her seductive smile melted into an incredulous frown, and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Don’t do what? Make love?” She backed away from him now, seeming utterly baffled by the prospect. “No man has ever refused me before.”

“And just how many has that been,” Ronald jabbed abruptly with a rude smirk, and her face flushed a deep, embarrassed red. Apparently a lot. “Nah, what I mean is that I don’t partake in the ladies, darlin’.” She huffed at him instantly, glaring rather fiercely at that point.

“Y-You’re a poof?” she asked, almost not believing him.

“Yeah, I like a nice, big cock in me. Hey, we have that in common, at least.” By then, he was just messing with her, though the expression that her pretty face contorted to was worth it.

“Well then why the hell were you leading me on?” she cried, her little fist clenching as if she wanted to hit him.

“You looked like you might taste good, and I was right,” Ronald said with a shrug, and with that, he was dealt a swift slap to his face. It stung like hell, and would probably be red for a while, but he still couldn’t stifle the laughter that burst from his lips as he stood from the booth.

“Get away from me, you bastard!” she screeched, tears beginning to well in her eyes. Ronald felt bad for a moment, but it didn’t last long.

“Don’t cry, dollface,” he offered a bit more quietly, though still with that same jaunty grin. “I’ll see y’ around, okay?” She lifted her drink and tried to splash it on him, but he dodged it easily.

“Like hell you will!” she shouted after him, and Ronald only winked at her over his shoulder as he waltzed over to Sam and nudged him on the shoulder.

“What, things not work out?” the reaper mumbled, hiccupping as he took another large gulp of his spirits.

“Nah, she was actually quite a hound up close,” Ronald lied, “so thanks a ton. I think I’m gonna head home now.”

“Aww, ‘woof,’” Sam mocked, smacking Ronald’s shoulder, almost falling over as he did so. “Fine, you go on home, but I’m stayin’.” Without another word, Sam turned back toward the bartender and ordered another whiskey. The blond only sniffed at him in laughter as he shoved his hands into his pockets and headed out to his car. He’d driven them both to the pub, so Sam would have to find his way home. It wasn’t that far of a walk to the dorms from there, after all. Maybe some nice, burly gentleman would find it into his heart to carry the poor idiot home. Ronald reassured himself with the thought as he hopped into the driver’s seat and turned the key. It sputtered and clanked for a moment before the engine roared to life and he started for home.

He completed a good portion of his assignment that night, proud of himself for not getting completely wasted to the point of not knowing up from down. He was certain that Anthony appreciated the fact, too, even if he really didn’t give a toss about his scrawny roommate. Again, the room was filled with the sound of clicking keyboards, from both Ronald and Anthony, as they worked on their papers. “Would you like a clementine, Ronald?” Anthony asked suddenly, breaking the pleasant white noise.

“No, I don’t.” Ronald rolled his eyes behind the brunette’s back. He was the most awkward bloody get he’d ever met in his life. No I don’t want your pussy orange.

“Some people consider a clementine to be a symbol of friendship, and I simply wanted to extend the offer to you.” Ronald thought to respond with some witty and hurtful comment, but for one reason or another he held his tongue. As much as he loved to tease the insufferable little man, he really wasn’t unkind, and he sounded sincere as he spoke. With an inward sigh, Ronald rose from his desk to walk up to Anthony and hold out his hand.

“Sure, I’ll take it, then,” he said passively, hoping that the brunette wouldn’t look too deeply into the gesture. Anthony stared at him rather dumbly for a moment, like he was taken aback that he was actually accepting it. “You gonna give me the bloody thing or not?” Anthony promptly dropped it into his hand, and Ronald immediately went back to his desk to peel the little thing.

Once he had removed all of the bitter outer layer, he began tearing the little slices apart. He popped one into his mouth and paused as his mouth burst with its juices. It was delicious. Ronald had always liked oranges the best out of any other fruit, and clementines weren’t a far stretch. He devoured the rest of the small treat quickly, enjoying the way it washed the unpleasant aftertaste of ale from his mouth. He quite nearly thanked Anthony after that, but once again, he held his tongue.

The rest of the evening was fairly quiet as Anthony read his latest penny dreadful, and Ronald got ready for bed and hopped under the sheets. He had claimed the lower bunk in the dorm weeks ago, and so he lay there, completely still, staring at the underside of the top bunk. His eyes held a glassy sheen as they gazed, and his mind began spinning with images of his new crush.

He imagined those cold, seemingly cruel eyes that held such a fount of sagacity and intellect. He thought of that raven-black hair that was always combed perfectly into place, and how he wanted so badly to run his fingers through it all of a sudden and muss it up. He thought of those thin hands writing the daily lessons on the chalkboard, or perhaps wielding his scythe in a fierce battle against a demon. Next, he pictured that slender body, which he’d only ever seen clothed in that immaculate suit, and he couldn’t prevent himself from picturing just what it might look like without a shred of fabric hiding it at all. He imagined toned muscle that was perfectly sculpted, but hardly bulky, strong shoulders, and just the right amount of chest hair. Ronald groaned at the thought, forgetting momentarily that his roommate was lying directly above him.

His heart began beating more quickly, then, and he felt his cheeks grow warm. His vision was filled with nothing but what he could only imagine was flawless ivory skin, strong arms, long, thin legs, and just what the delectable male anatomy that rested between them might look like.

“Ronald, are you alright?” Anthony asked abruptly, snapping the blond from his erotic dreaming. It took him a moment to realize that he may have been moaning a touch too loudly, and when he glanced down to see his boxers were tented over his crotch, he cringed in embarrassment. “Is your stomach giving you troubles as well? The cafeteria lunch today didn’t sit well with me, it seems.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Geezus…” Ronald grumbled defensively at the other reaper, burying his arousal deep within the bedding and feeling rather foolish. How could he have been so careless? He placed a hand to his forehead and heaved a grand sigh.

He needed to calm himself, for it was nothing more than whimsy to even hope that Mr. Spears would ever return his affections. Hell, he didn’t even know if he was interested in men. If he was, then he certainly didn’t show it. Then again, he didn’t show interest in women either. The man was a mystery, and while that provided Ronald with a puerile sense of hope, he knew that he shouldn’t have such high expectations. Even just seeing the man tomorrow after picturing him so lewdly in his mind would be enough to dye Ronald’s face dark red, and he cursed himself for letting it go that far.

The next few days, Ronald tried very hard to focus on the lessons presented in class, and not on the man presenting them, but he continually found his eyes flickering to stare at that strikingly handsome face. The day when they were to receive their graded essays back, Ronald had butterflies in his stomach as he watched Mr. Spears wander about the lecture hall to pass them out. He felt as though it had been an especially good paper this time around, considering what great care he’d taken to right it, and when William neared him he held his breath.

That pale face betrayed no emotion as he sorted through them to find Ronald’s, though when he did, the blond noticed how his dark eyebrows knit together for a moment. Confused, Ronald took the paper he was handed and was nothing short of shocked when he saw a big, fat five written at the top. His mouth went slack as he tried to find the words to properly express his disbelief at the grade, and he instantly thought it to be some sort of grand mistake. “M-Mr. Spears, sir,” he began, still fumbling to find the right words, “this can’t possibly be right.” William paused and fixed Ronald with those damningly cold eyes.

“Are you implying I made a mistake?” he challenged quietly, though not in a threatening tone. “That is, most assuredly, not the case. It was as if you weren’t listening to the specifics of the assignment at all, Mr. Knox. I wanted facts, and your paper is chock-full of nothing but subjectivity. Pay more attention next time.” He left without another word, and Ronald was left to stare in stunned silence at the failed essay. Had he really been as oblivious to the objectives of the paper as to miss such an important detail? His grade had been nigh perfect in the class, and now that would most likely be dashed, all due to an inexcusable bought of ignorance.

In reality, it probably wasn’t as severe a situation as his mind was building it up to be, but he did indeed feel deeply ashamed. It wasn’t as though he could never earn his points back through upcoming assignments, but it was an avoidable issue. Ronald took a deep breath and tried to shake it off, tucking the paper into his messenger back. Out of sight, out mind.

That night, he joined Sam at the pub once again. There was another paper due the following morning, but he needed a few drinks. He and Sam had grown a little closer over the past few days through the little time they spent together at lunch and chatting before and after class, but when they went to the pub together, it seemed like they were best mates.

“Would you do that one?” Ronald asked, nodding his head toward a saucy-looking redhead leaning against the bar a few feet away. Sam followed his gesture and his eyes widened.

“Hell yeah,” he snorted, taking a swig of his beer. “Look at those tits. I could practically drown in ‘em.” He continued to stare at her for a few minutes longer, before the blond nudged him again and nodded toward the door this time.

“How about that one?” he asked, looking toward a morbidly obese woman who had just walked in, wearing clothes that were much too tight for her full figure. “She’s a real cutie.” Sam whipped his head around, still grinning at the sight of the seductive redhead, but his jaw dropped at the sight of the new woman.

“Um, let me think…oh yeah—no fuckin’ way!” Ronald burst into a raucous laughter, turning a few heads by how loud they were. The alcohol coursing through their systems didn’t help their situation, and soon enough, neither of them could control their laughter.

“You’re such a bloody pig,” Ronald choked as Sam’s head fell on his shoulder. “I mean—I mean, y’ could drown in her tits, too!” Sam’s chuckling grew ever-louder and he soon became breathless.

“Yeah, but I draw the line at dames whose ass-cracks I could also drown in!” Ronald’s face was dark pink with how much he was giggling, and his stomach had started to hurt as well. Sam collapsed so that his face was planted rather awkwardly in the blonde’s lap where he sat at the bar stool, but they were far too soused to care at that point in the evening.

Finally, after about three more minutes of sweet, painful laughter, they quieted down and resumed rating the girls at the pub. “What about you, Ronnie? You see anything special?” Ronald looked around for any beauties, having yet to tell Sam that he wasn’t at all interested in reapers of the fairer sex. He didn’t know what was holding him back, honestly. Perhaps he simply didn’t want to be judged for it, even though in reaper society, homosexuality was much less controversial than in the mortal realm.

“Nah, not really,” he shrugged, and Sam raised an eyebrow at him as if he was stupid.

“None at all? Holy hell you’re a picky bastard,” he sniffed, polishing off his drink and gesturing toward the bartender for another. A mischievous glint lit up Sam’s eyes, then, and he jabbed Ronald in the ribs with his elbow. “Oh—Oh, I know why,” he slurred, grinning like an idiot. Ronald just glanced over at him grunted curiously. “You’re savin’ yourself for Spears.”

The blond lost his composure for a split second, though even in his heavily intoxicated state, he could manage to appear nonchalant. “Yeah right, you stupid twat.” Sam was far too drunk to notice the slight hesitation in his voice, but he continued to tease him regardless.

“You like to be bent over his nice, big desk and fucked in the arse, Ron? I bet he has a lovely two-inch dick.” With that, Sam doubled over in laughter onto Ronald’s lap again, though the latter only sat there, his lips pursed. Abruptly, Ronald shoved Sam off of him and rose to his feet. “Wha, Ronnie?” he mumbled in surprise from where he’d fallen on the floor. “Y’ leavin’ already? It’s only one!” Ronald didn’t say another word as he flung open the door to the pub and stormed out onto the street to get into his car.

It was anything but wise to try driving in that condition, and after no shortage of swerving and honking horns of frustrated drivers, Ronald pulled up to the housing complex at dispatch. He parked crookedly outside, narrowly missing denting the two vehicles parked on either side of him, and stumbled inside. It was some small miracle that he had enough sense or energy left to make it to his dorm, let alone put the key into what had seemingly turned into a microscopic keyhole, but after much effort, he was inside.

The lights were off, so Anthony was probably sleeping soundly on the upper bunk, though Ronald didn’t try to keep quiet as he slammed the door and kicked off his shoes. He practically ripped his clothes off, so bleeding delirious by then that he wanted nothing more than to collapse on the bed and fall asleep, but he didn’t even make it that far.

Completely nude, Ronald stumbled to the floor and groaned in mild pain, but he didn’t move to get up and climb into the bed that was only two ridiculously short feet away. No, he just lay there, until he fell asleep. Fast asleep.

His dreams were filled with horrid visions of bodacious bare bosoms and failed essays. His stomach churned, and he was certain that he’d turned over to vomit on the floor next to him at some point in the night, but he was far too ill to bother with it. Later, he thought he’d heard Anthony’s voice far, far away, like they were standing on opposite ends of a long tunnel, but that eventually faded away as well. Ronald was left in silence. Pain-filled silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand, here we have the first mention of Ronald's reaper mother. Again, this was written before the infamous chapter we realize reapers are reanimated from suicide victims, so I thought it would be a cute idea for Ronald to have a doting mother up there with him. :3
> 
> The next chapter will be coming soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Ronald awakened to the twisting of his stomach, and he rolled reluctantly onto his side to upheave nothing more than a puddle of bile. He choked at the sight and gagged again, feeling terribly out of breath. Panting, he glanced up at his alarm clock and gasped, feeling nauseous straight away again. He was three hours late for class. 

He felt so weak and pathetic that tears actually rose to his eyes with the threat of breaking into a sob. How much had he had to drink last night? Enough to make him a complete and utter idiot, apparently, and now he was going to get punished. 

His essay. He had absolutely no time to write one at this point, but he didn’t want to be dealt a harsher punishment than what was already coming to him. There was only one hour until lunch time, so he might as well just wait to head to class until after the break, and maybe, just maybe, that would prove to be enough time to crank out a decent paper. 

With a fresh wave of determination, he forced himself up off the ground and stood on his trembling legs to wobble toward his desk. He paid no mind to the vomit spattered across the floor, and what was probably piss as well, and went straight to work on his paper. The seat was cold on his bare rear end, and he cringed a little at the feel of it. It didn’t help that a powerful migraine was about to strike him. Nonetheless, he opened a new document and began typing away. He’d paid attention to exactly what Mr. Spears had wanted in this essay, and he’d figured out the day before what approach he wanted to take on it.

Mr. Spears. 

Ronald still couldn’t forget the look of disappointment he’d given him the day before when he handed him his failed essay, and he felt terribly guilty. He let him down, and he hated the fact that he’d done so. Gritting his teeth, Ronald typed all the more furiously, producing a lovely paper regarding the most effective techniques for navigating the mortals’ rooftops, or so he thought. He made sure to eliminate almost every trace of opinion that he could, and all that remained were the cold, hard facts.

 

The rest of the day went as miserably as one would expect, Ronald nearly fainting from his illness several times throughout the day, though he was able to hand in his essay. He had told Mr. Spears that he hadn’t felt well enough in the morning to come to class, but he could tell by the way the professor raised an eyebrow at him that he knew exactly what the cause of his ailment was. Still, he didn’t say anything about it as he assigned Ronald a whopping fifteen-page makeup essay regarding the history of London’s dispatch association. 

Weeks turned to months, and Ronald began truly struggling to keep up with the class. The assignments had grown beyond simply papers and expanded to more involved projects that required them to interact with their superiors to gain information and begin demonstrating all of the skills they had learned over the year in front of Mr. Spears. The latter were the ones Ronald particularly had troubles with. He knew exactly what he was supposed to do, and his confidence level certainly wasn’t the issue, but every time he stepped into that private training room with Mr. Spears to display his skills, his mind seemed to go blank and he’d fail as if he were some brainless fool. 

Ronald could sense the respect that William had developed for him start to wane, and he felt like he had at the very beginning of the school year, which was now over four months ago. His ones and twos turned into sour fours and fives, and he found himself barely clinging on to a passing grade at all. 

The stress induced frequent headaches, so powerful that he’d even visited the infirmary to be prescribed anything and everything that could help him. Medications were all well and good, but Ronald had heavily turned toward drink as an auspicious solution to his worries. He’d transformed, it seemed, from a nonchalant and bright young man, into one who was lost and hanging on by the skin of his teeth. It was an uncomfortable realization, to say in the least. 

He barely ever saw Thomas anymore, what with him and his girlfriend having become so serious, and while he spoke with Jones now and again, being around him for too long depressed Ronald for several reasons. Jones had lost weight, and a significant amount at that, to the point that he was hardly recognizable to anyone who’d known him before. His only meals were from the cafeteria, and he would often sneak food back to his dorm so that he could use it for dinner that evening as well; as far as breakfast, he simply went without. 

That tutor he hired months ago was sucking him dry of the last bits of money he possessed, and his grades had hardly budged in quality. “I want this job so bloody bad,” he told Ronald one day at lunch, his eyes glazed over and enveloped by dark rings. “I always looked up to dispatch reapers when I was little. I thought they were super heroes, and I wanted to be just like them, not to mention the fact that it attracts the ladies. It’s so much harder than I imagined.” Ronald never knew what to say when his friend grew like this, but he knew that sitting with him helped a little at least. He tried to give him money once, but Jones’ face had grown bright red with anger and he refused it hastily. Just as the blond suspected he would. It was a matter of pride, just as he’d previously thought. It was a test of masculinity. 

In all honesty, Ronald was a touch miffed at Thomas for ignoring his best friend in such a way, especially when he was needing a companion so badly. Thomas often stayed with at his lover’s house and wouldn’t see Jones for days, maybe even weeks on end. The close brotherhood that Ronald had seen between them seemed to disappear, and it saddened him unexplainably. He almost felt like it was his responsibility to step in and fill that hole, but Jones was a shell of his former self, and Ronald felt completely drained emotionally after spending as little as a few hours with the young man. Even still, he considered him one of his closest mates. 

Sam remained unchanged. He was failing, but he didn’t much care. Ronald highly doubted that the bratty brunette would ever have the motivation to try and pass the course, and so he figured he’d probably end up dropping out eventually and finding some second-rate job elsewhere. His parents had money growing on trees, though, so he could probably buy his way into any career he desired, even with his unbearable attitude toward everything and everyone. 

Ronald was secretly disgusted at him too, for being so free with his cash as to waste so much on eating out and drinking every night, especially considering there were students like Jones who desperately wanted into dispatch and were spending their entire life savings on the classes. Despite that, though, Ronald still went out to the pub him more nights than not. 

Sam seemed to get a real joy from taunting Ronald about William. He’d set up this whole elaborate and scandalous storyline regarding an imaginary love affair between the two of them, which involved secret meetings at one another’s houses and making brutally passionate love in the park at night. It grated against Ronald’s every nerve to hear him degrade their instructor like that, yet he somehow found the strength to hold his tongue. 

“You ever seen the man’s scythe?” Sam would snort. “He’s definitely overcompensating for something the gods didn’t give ‘im.” 

Ronald’s eye would twitch in annoyance. 

“Somebody told me today that they saw him bend over to pick up a paper, and he was wearin’ frilly pink underwear!”

Ronald would clench his fist. 

“Did you know that he paints his fingernails purple underneath his gloves?”

Ronald would huff. 

“He has a stick shoved so far up his arse that he can taste what he had for breakfast!” 

Ronald would have to close his eyes and simply imagine choking Sam. 

But that was just Sam being disrespectful, impish, ignorant Sam. Ronald grew to hate him over time. 

Perhaps Ronald was simply wanted to defend Mr. Spears out of that persistent puppy love he still felt for the man, and that he was being childish. This didn’t allow him to forgive Sam, though, and his annoyance with the shorter man only continued to grow and grow, until that one fateful day. 

Ronald had gone into class early so that he could look over his notes before Mr. Spears handed out a rather important exam. It would be worth a sizeable chunk of his grade, and so he’d studied from dusk to dawn in preparation for what could be the difference between passing and failing. Anthony respected his wishes and left Ronald be to his work, but Sam was slightly less sensitive. He called the blond four times the night before to ask him if he wanted to go to the pub with him, the last three really just being made to tease Ronald. The blond spat some unsavory words into the phone and that was that; he hung up. 

Ronald’s hand clenched around his notes at the memory when he entered the lecture hall, wrinkling them slightly. His eyes hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to close them and drift into a comfortable nap right there on the desk. It was actually the growl of his stomach that roused him again, and when he realized where he was, he sat up quickly. He glanced down at the front of the room, only to find his professor’s eyes staring right back into his. Ronald’s face flushed slightly as he rose from his seat and made toward the cafeteria. 

He had just walked up to the entrance when he heard a grand commotion coming from inside. Curiously, he peered in and instantly grew irritated. There stood Sam, a bottle of what he supposed was ale held to his lips as he danced on one of the lunch tables. A group of guys stood around him cheering, all trainees, seeing as the elder reapers found the display revolting. Ronald knew that the encouragement was in jest for the most part, and that Sam had hardly any true friends beyond those who simply liked to drink with him. Ronald was one of those friends, or at least he used to be. 

With a sigh, he approached to watch the drunken idiot do a little jig and nearly fall face first off of the bench. He merely shook his head at the sad sight. Here they all were, shaking in their boots at the exam they were about to take, and Sam didn’t even have the consideration to refrain from getting totally wasted that morning. At the next table over, he saw Jones sitting alone, eating breakfast for the first time in weeks and studying quietly. The man brought his freaking notes with him as he ate, and Sam likely hadn’t even taken any notes at all. 

Feeling his frustration nearly bubble over, he marched over to Sam and grabbed him by the arm to yank him roughly off of the tabletop. “What the bloody hell are you doing?” he growled into his face, fixing a glare on the brunette, whose eyes were flitting and unfocused. 

“We were jus’ dancin’, Ronnie ol’ boy. Wanna come n’ join me?” He took hold of Ronald’s hand and tried to lead him back onto the table, but the blond tugged himself out of his grip sharply. 

“We have a massive test today, and you’re messin’ around like this?” he asked, not expecting an intelligent response. Sam simply shrugged at him, and Ronald snorted in wry laughter. “You make me sick, Sam.” Not wanting to hear another word from his mouth, he went to the buffet, got a light meal, and went to sit down by Jones. 

 

The clock seemed to fly by, and before he knew it, class was about to begin. Students filed in as if they were on death-row, though there were still those few who looked far too confident for their own good. Ronald was definitely not one of them, and he grew unreasonably cold all of a sudden as he entered the room, shivering at the sensation for a moment. He sat toward the back, so that he didn’t have people breathing down his neck and trying to cheat off of him, even though he doubted anyone would want to. 

He was ready, he would tell himself, that he’d studied all night and he knew the information like the back of his hand. As long as he didn’t have a nervous, twitchy person sitting next to him to spread their anxiety to him like a disease, he thought he would do just fine. His face was buried in his notes when he heard the person next to him take their seat; he looked over and his face darkened. It was bloody Sam. 

“I don’t want to sit by you,” Ronald told the intoxicated lad in a split second, his teeth grit. Sam just looked at him in puzzlement. He obviously hadn’t comprehended a word of what he’d just said. “Go away, you little—”

“Good morning, class,” Mr. Spears greeted the room full of somber students, a thick stack of papers in his hands which could have only been the test.   
“You exam is about to begin. Please use black ink, and if you make a mistake, draw a single line through said mistake and rewrite your answer over the top. If you have any questions, ask them when I give you your exam. Otherwise, I will not tolerate talking of any sort while this test is in session. Phase them to my desk when you are finished, and begin to read chapter fifty-five on demonic presence.” 

Ronald, unsure of what to do, blurted out the first thing that came to mind when Mr. Spears approached him after a few minutes of passing papers out to other students. “Will there be a chance to retake this test, sir?” If this was the case, then he would purposely fill in the wrong answers for Sam to copy off of and fill in all of the correct answers during the retake, but he was disheartened to find Mr. Spears shake his head. 

“No, not this time,” William stated easily, and he began walking away before Ronald could say anything more. He could understand. There was a ton of students that had yet to receive the hefty exam, so he couldn’t linger on the blond all day, but he was still apprehensive about having to take it next to drunken, obnoxious Sam. He looked down at his test and sought out problems he didn’t know the answer to, but much to his relief, he couldn’t find any. A small smile played his lips as he picked up his pen and started to fill out the first question, but just then he heard a grumble from the seat next to him. 

“This is so bloody ridiculous,” Ronald heard Sam mutter, and he peered over at him to see the brunette glaring down his nose at the quiz. “Ron, I’m not doing this shit.”

“Sam, shut up,” Ronald hissed in a whisper. “You’ll get us both in trouble.” Yet, Sam only kept his mumbling, and it was growing progressively louder. 

“Who the hell does he think he is, loading this ass-wipe test on us like we’re cattle?” His ranting was growing ever-more passionate, and Ronald rolled his eyes when he watched him take up his own pen and draw a giant cock across the length of his test. 

“Spears will like that, won’t he? He’ll probably get off to that later.” By then, a few other heads were turning toward them, and Ronald tried his very hardest to ignore what the other reaper was saying. He didn’t know him. He didn’t know him. 

“Ronnie boy, let’s rebel against the bastard!” he began to shout, drawing attention from the entire classroom, including Mr. Spears, who had seated himself at his desk. “Oi, Spears, you bloody twat, why don’t y’ take this fuckin’ exam and shove it right snug up your arsehole?” The rest of the class’ jaws dropped open and eyes went wide in amazement, though no one raised their voice in protest; no one wanted to get involved. Ronald closed his eyes and just imagined choking Sam again, as he so often found himself doing at that point in their relationship, but with every insult, he was growing closer and closer to initiating something real. 

Ronald glanced down at William, though the man’s face remained neutral, save for the one raised eyebrow.

“I think I know what your problem is, Willie,” Sam spat, rising from his seat lilting forward with the threat of tumbling down the stairs to the front of the room. “You need to get laid. I’ll tell you what, I’ll come down there right now, bend you over the desk, and fuck that tight little bum for you! How does that sound, y’ bleedin’ poof?”  
He paused as if awaiting an answer, though the room remained deathly silent. “Oh, does that make you a little nervous? Did Daddy touch you when you were little? Did he shove his big, fat dick up little Willie’s arse?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Ronald roared at last, and an almost comically collective gasp sounded from some of the other students. The tension in the room was crackling like lighting by then, though Mr. Spears hadn’t moved an inch since the outburst had begun. It couldn’t be helped, though; Ron was fed up. “Learn some bloody manners, you selfish little brat!” 

With that, and an incredulous expression coming over Sam’s face, the blond clocked him right in the jaw, releasing all of the pent-up rage he’d been feeling toward the brunette for the past few weeks. When Ron withdrew, his fist stung and Sam’s head had cracked backwards. He could already see that inflicted area turn a blotchy red, and his anger vanished into thin air. 

He looked around at the rest of the room, who stared silently back at him in shock, and he grew incredibly nervous. Slowly, his eyes flickered toward Mr. Spears, who only stared back at him stoically. Ronald had no words for him, none at all for what he’d just done, and he’d never felt such powerful regret in his young life before. Sam was still conscious, but the blond seemed to have knocked the anger right out of him, because he looked nothing more than surprised, then. 

After a few more heartbeats of deafening silence, Mr. Spears summoned his death scythe and sent it soaring up toward the back of the room at the two young reapers. Ronald’s eyes widened and he leapt away, only to realize a second later that he had been aiming for Sam. He hit his target, Sam’s loose tie, with a deadly accuracy, and the sharp little blades clamped together so that he had a firm hold on the dizzied brunette. With not a shred of sympathy, he began retracting the long scythe and dragging the tumbling reaper down the stairs to meet him at the bottom. 

Every other student watched as Sam tripped and rolled his way down, though more than a few were simply admiring the way Mr. Spears could manipulate his scythe, like it was an extension of his arm itself. Whether or not they were thinking it in that particular moment, each of his pupils aspired to possess that skill someday. Many never reached that optimal control, though every reaper shared the dream. 

That was the farthest thing from Ronald’s mind as he stood frozen and awaited the same fate to befall him, but much to his confusion, Mr. Spears merely called out to him. 

“Ronald Knox, come.” 

His tone was none too kind, to say in the very least, and the blond shuddered as he began the walk of shame down the stairs, past his pitying classmates, and toward those cold, calculating eyes that were burning into his skull. This was the end. He was done. He would never be a dispatch reaper. He could nearly see his childhood dreams come crashing down on him, and he imagined how disappointed his mother would be at hearing the news. Even just the thought made his heart twist in his chest. 

“Class,” William addressed the room once Ronald neared him, “continue your exams. I expect integral work. I shall return within ten minutes.” Ten minutes. That was going to be all it would take for Ronald to be booted from dispatch. That was all it would take to break his mother’s heart. “Follow me,” Mr. Spears said more quietly to Ronald and a half-unconscious Sam. 

They stepped out of the classroom into the sterile white hallway, William’s scythe never leaving Sam’s tie as he led them like a pair of dogs. Ronald lingered only slightly behind so that he wouldn’t have to walk directly next to his instructor. He peered at Sam, whose head was lolling backwards and exposing just how swollen his jaw had become. He was so embarrassed, so incredibly embarrassed, and he almost couldn’t handle the looks he was receiving from the elder reapers passing in the halls. William rounded a corner sharply, Sam gagging a bit as the scythe tightened his tie, and Ronald stumbled as his professor abruptly changed direction. 

After a few more painfully silent moments, they arrived in the managerial sect of the office complex, a beautiful wing complete with glass ceilings and marble floors. Ronald could only imagine the amount of work and dedication it would take to earn position that landed one here, an honor he’d likely never see now. There was a peculiar tension in his chest that almost felt as though he was going to cry, though no tears came to his eyes. He’d really messed up. 

Astute-looking reapers passed them, some raising eyebrows, and some merely glancing in disinterest, but Ronald couldn’t meet their eyes regardless. At last, Mr. Spears slowed at the end of the hallway, where his office door grandly sat; “WILLIAM T. SPEARS” was engraved on a stainless steel placard on the mahogany surface. William opened it quickly and let the boys inside. Ronald’s jaw dropped. 

It was massive. A window that stretched all the way to the tall ceiling and back filled the room with a natural light, and billowing gray curtains surrounded it elegantly. The floor was the same marble as in the hallway, but a large white rug took up much of the office. Bookshelves lines the walls so profusely that Ronald couldn’t tell what the color of the walls even was beneath it all, though he imagined it to be white, and a door toward the back must have led to William’s private restroom. The focal point of the whole room, however, was the huge desk that loomed in front of them.

The surface of it was organized neatly, with several stacks of papers and a cup of pens resting in their proper places, and a nearly throne-like chair sat behind it. Two chairs rested directly in front of the desk, and as William passed them to move to his own chair, he released Sam so that he dropped limply into it. Ronald couldn’t help but gulp when he saw them. It was almost like William had been expecting them there that very day. Regardless of his trepidation, he assumed Mr. Spears wanted him to take a seat in the other one, so he did just that. 

William, meanwhile, sat down, and Ronald could think of nothing to compare him to except for a king. The blonde was a mere peasant in juxtaposition. He couldn’t look the man in the eye when he felt that piercing gaze burning into him again, and he wasn’t certain as to whether or not Mr. Spears expected him to speak up. Tentatively, he did. “M-Mr. Spears, I’m so sorry—I don’t know what came over—”

“Silence,” William ordered firmly, pulling open a drawer in his desk then to remove a very thick file. Ronald inhaled the scent of parchment and coffee sharply at the order, biting his tongue. He watched quietly as the older man removed one piece of paper, before sorting through the file for a moment to remove another. 

Taking up a pen, he began scribbling at a furiously quick rate on the documents, and Ronald could only guess what they were. At least five minutes passed before William set down his pen and slid the papers forward toward the two trainees behind his desk. Ronald leaned forward to look at it, but when Mr. Spears spoke up again, his eyes snapped immediately toward him so as not to seem disrespectful. 

“Gentlemen, I am disappointed in you both,” he began monotonously. “To be perfectly honest, I was hardly surprised to have seen such a disturbance from you, Mr. Tuttle, though I expected more out of you, Knox.” 

Ronald felt so ashamed in that moment that he couldn’t help it when his leg began to bounce up and down anxiously. Mr. Spears had come to see him as a good student, and now that respect had dissipated in the blink of an eye. 

“Mr. Spears, I—”

“I will not tolerate such blatant disregard for not only my authority, but also such for your fellow students who were trying to take their exams. Samuel Tuttle, I’ve determined your outburst to be one of inexcusable proportions, and so I am going to appeal to the higher-ups and seek permission for your immediate expulsion.” Ronald’s heart was beating out of his chest at the news, and he dared to peek at Sam, who, for once in his life, was completely silent and looked genuinely remorseful. 

“Ronald Knox,” that deep voice came again, and the blond, regrettably, turned to look those acidic green eyes straight on, though he wasn’t able to handle it for any longer than a few seconds. “You reacted in defense of my honor, though it was an entirely foolish means of doing so. I cannot easily forgive such idiocy without batting an eye, and so you shall be suspended for two weeks of class, during which time you will not be permitted to enter the dispatch office complex for any reason. No appeal need be made, as I am the overseer of all academy suspensions. Do I make myself clear?” 

Ronald only stared at the man dumbly for a few heartbeats, as if he didn’t believe the words he’d just said. Suspension? Only two weeks? Why, that was a little slice of heaven compared to what Sam had just been dealt, and he almost let a large grin split his face. 

“Yes, sir,” he murmured incredulously. “You do.” He felt a nearly uncontrollable urge to leap from his seat and plant a kiss on his elder’s thin lips, but he managed to restrain himself. He didn’t want to anger him more than he already had, and assaulting him in his own office wouldn’t help his situation any, he was nearly certain. There was, of course, the off-chance that Mr. Spears would actually reciprocate his feelings, but that chance was one in a million, and Ronald didn’t have the guts to gamble with such a risk. 

He was just another of his students. 

The thought was depressing, really, but Ronald was too happy to give a toss. Two weeks suspension wasn’t a godsend necessarily, but it was a hell of a lot better than expulsion. All he knew was that he still had a chance to pass, a narrow, slim, minute chance. But it existed, and Ronald was determined to show Mr. Spears that he was worth the seat he took up in class. 

“Very well. Mr. Tuttle, you are dismissed,” William said with a sigh, and Sam took a moment to process the words before rising onto trembling legs and hobbling pathetically out the door without a single word. Ronald watched him go with a sort of sadness; he remembered all of the nights that he’d spent with Sam at the pub, how they would laugh and pick on girls. 

He was fun when the blond needed to relax in such a way, but overall he was a bad influence, and Ronald, hungry for distractions from the tedious work of Mr. Spears’ class, was easily influenced. It would be a good thing if he didn’t see him much anymore, not that Ronald expected the smaller man to come running back to him with smiles and chuckles after how he’d just hit him. Then again, nothing Sam did surprised him at that point. 

“Ronald Knox,” Mr. Spears said once his office door closed again, and Ronald’s head snapped forward attentively. “I am concerned with your current standing in the class.” It was nothing the blond didn’t already know, what with his borderline failing grade, but he hung his head if but to show the other man that he realized his situation. “At the beginning of the year, beyond the first two days, you progressed to the top of the class and remained there for a good while. I had high hopes for you, and now I fear you may be throwing your intelligence away by befriending reapers such as Mr. Tuttle who think only in the present and not so much as a moment ahead.” 

“I’m startin’ to realize that, sir,” Ronald mumbled seriously, running a hand through his golden hair. He was taken aback to hear that Mr. Spears had once thought so highly of him, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the concern. “I’m just gonna come out and ask: Is there any way I’d be able to pass this year?” He dreaded the answer, and while his mother was more-than-willing to fund his endeavors, he knew he couldn’t keep relying on her for the rest of his life. 

“I believe so, but only if you were to receive outstandingly high marks on each and every assignment beyond this point.” William spoke with cold, hard honesty, and Ronald sucked a deep breath. “It is not impossible, Mr. Knox, though you would need to understand that your current reckless lifestyle will not aid in achieving your aspirations. You’re not an imbecile, so stop acting like one.” Never had any words resonated within Ronald more than they had just then, and his final statement was the cherry on top. Mr. Spears was right. He was completely right. 

“Alright, sir,” Ronald said with a new and fierce determination in his eyes. “I’ll try my very best.” William looked somewhat skeptical, raising an eyebrow at the blond as if he wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. He rose from his grand seat and started for the door, gesturing at Ronald to follow him. Soon, the pair was walking back down the hall from whence they came, and the thought crossed the younger reaper’s mind for a moment just where Sam had disappeared to. He’d probably left the building to go and drink some more. 

Ronald just shook his head at the thought, though he knew full-well that could have very well been himself making a drunken ass of himself in front of the whole class. He wasn’t much different from Sam, really, even though he desperately tried to tell himself that he was. 

This time, he walked alongside his professor, allowing his eyes to wander fleetingly now and again toward the other man to admire the way he walked, the way those long legs moved… Gods, he was a hopeless romantic, staring like a lovesick schoolboy at his instructor not ten minutes after he’d gotten his rear end thoroughly kicked by him. Two weeks of suspension. He had no idea what he was going to do with all of that spare time. 

They approached the class room door, and Ronald paused in his walking. He wasn’t sure whether or not he was supposed to leave right away, or if he would possibly have an opportunity to finish his exam. He doubted it, but when Mr. Spears turned back toward him curiously, his eyes lit up. 

“Mr. Knox, whatever are you doing?” he asked flatly. 

“Did you want me to leave right now?” 

“If you wish to fail your exam, then by all means. However, in lieu of the conversation we just had, I suggest otherwise.” Ronald’s face split into a wide smile and he shuffled sheepishly where he stood; he knew that the professor was giving him a huge break.

“Thank you, Mr. Spears. I won’t disappoint you.” With that, he followed the man back into the classroom, where hundreds of pairs of eyes were seemingly glued to him. They must have all been dying to know what had happened, and Ronald had a feeling that he was going to be bombarded with questions later.

Still feeling a touch embarrassed, he bowed his head as he ascended the stairs to the spot he’d been sitting at before. He was surprised when, along the way, he felt a hand pat him on the back. “Way to go, Ronnie,” the lad said, and Ronald gave him a crooked grin. After that, it was as if a sea of whispered praise was bearing down on him, and the blond was nothing short of stunned. He wasn’t expecting such a collective approval for what he’d just done, but this was a form of attention that he definitely didn’t mind. 

As he sat back at his desk, a little shred of paper was tossed gingerly toward him. He picked it up and found a message there that read, “We’re all meeting at Jack’s. Tonight. 20:00.” Ronald looked at the classmate who’d passed it to him, and he smirked a little wider. There must have been a conversation while he and Mr. Spears were out of the room; maybe this whole mess would have an upside after all. Jack’s was a famous pub in reaper London, one that the blond had never actually been to. He’d have to get directions from somebody, but he wanted to go.

Ronald gave a wry sniff of laughter as he picked up his pen to continue his exam. He punched a brat in the jaw and became an instant celebrity. C’est la vie.


	4. Chapter 4

Later that evening, after he’d confidently turned in his exam, Ronald slipped on a more casual outfit and headed for Jack’s. It was a nicer place than he was used to, he to tell that much based on the outside alone. A tasteful sign illuminated in white and gold lettering beckoned him nearer, and when he watched a group of his classmates enter, he knew he was in the right part of town. He walked a little more quickly and stepped through the front door to find a least two dozen of his peers already there and sipping at their drinks. “Hey, Ronnie’s here!” one shouted, and all eyes instantly fixed on him. Much to his surprise, an uproarious applause met him, and his eyes went wide. 

As the applause began to cease, he was approached by a tall fellow with slicked dark hair, whose name Ronald believed was Allister. “Enter the hero,” he said in his baritone voice, clapping the blond on the shoulder when he was close enough. “You’re the talk of the town tonight, Ron, and we want to treat you for finally doing what we’ve all wanted to do for months.” A raucous agreement sounded from the rest of the crowd, and Ronald shrugged casually. 

“Couldn’t refuse an offer like that, could I?” he asked, and a handsome smile came across Allister’s sharp face. 

“Atta boy,” he chuckled. “Of course, we all want to hear about what happened in Spears’ office. When I saw him call upon his scythe, we all held our breath, and don’t think I missed the way you jumped outta your pants when it went flyin’ at you.” Ronald couldn’t hold back a laugh, and he shook his head. 

“I right nearly pissed myself,” he admitted, earning yet another round of laughter. He looked over the lads and found Jones sitting amongst them, still looking eerily thin, but he was smiling at him nonetheless. He made a mental note to catch up with him later. 

“What did he say to Sam?” one bulky fellow asked as he lifted a stein to his lips. “Spears, I mean.” 

“Nothin’ much,” Ronald explained, because it was the truth. “He gave him ‘the look’ and said very calmly that he was gonna appeal to the higher-ups about his expulsion.” Several mouths dropped open, while others just grinned and snickered. 

“He had it comin’,” a slim blond said coldly, but no one argued it. 

“What did Sam say about that?” Allister asked, leaning against the bar and drawing his dark eyebrows together. “Did he spit in his face and raise a fuss?” 

“Nah, he just sat there lookin’ like he felt bad for himself. He wasn’t all there anyway, y’ know?”

“Yeah, not after y’ knocked the wind out of ‘im like that!” the bulky lad snorted, and the rest of the guys chuckled. 

“When Ronald Knox you out, you won’t be seein’ straight for weeks,” Ronald sneered, and the whole of the room booed at the awful pun, though it was all in good-nature. 

“And what about you?” Allister said after a few moments. “What did Spears say to you?” The blond sighed quietly and plopped down on a stool, but he tried to look like it was no big deal. 

“Two-week suspension,” he said, and the guys grew somber for a moment. “Worth it, though, dontcha think?” Immediately, their faces brightened again, and Allister draped an arm across his shoulders. Ronald could smell his cologne, and he cast a fleeting glance up at the young man so that he could sweep his eyes over his sharp jawline and charming smile, but not too long so that it grew awkward. He was an attractive bloke, really.

Ronald furrowed his brow at the thoughts. Why would he think things like that? He barely knew him, and yet, he couldn’t help but feel like he would be an easier conquest than Mr. Spears would ever be. The way he had his arm around his shoulder was in a curiously familiar fashion, too, but Ronald tried to stop himself from looking into minute details like that. 

“I respect Spears, and I don’t think he deserved that, even if it was bloody entertaining to watch the whole thing,” Allister mumbled to Ronald, and everyone else listened intently. “I will agree with Sam, though, when he said that Will needs to get laid.” Hoots and guffaws filled the room, and Ronald joined in easily, even if it was in a rather self-deprecating manner. Because in truth, he needed to get laid too. At the thought, he looked over at Allister again. His smile faded for a moment, and a serious expression came over his face, though only until a cold, foaming stein of beer was plopped right in front of him at the bar. That grasped his attention better than any handsome lad, especially right in that moment when he was dying for a drink. 

The rest of the night was filled with laughs, stories, and, of course, plenty of alcohol. Ronald returned to his place at two in the morning, buzzed but not overly wasted, and he was sure that Anthony was thankful for that. He had been wondering for a while just what the sickly brunette would have to say about him lashing out in class. 

When he opened the door, he found that Anthony was still awake, as if he was waiting for him. The blond raised an eyebrow as he neared him, and the smaller man looked toward him tentatively. “Evenin’,” Ronald greeted, and his roommate just frowned at him. 

“Technically it’s morning,” he corrected him, before his eyes went wide as saucers and he cringed. “B-But whatever! It’s fine!” Ronald sighed; he was being stranger than usual. 

“Oi, what’s wrong? Why are you actin’ all weird and twitchy?” He didn’t have the patience, even if he felt truly relaxed after getting some beer in his system and meeting his new friends. He watched as Anthony took a deep breath, and he clasped his bony hands together before fixing a calmer gaze at Ronald. 

“I-I respect that you chose to stand up for Mr. Spears, but I didn’t realize you were such a violent person.” Ronald narrowed his eyes, struggling to hold back a snicker. “I do not feel safe around you any longer, and so I have requested a change of roommates.” The blond rolled his eyes at that, not even trying to hide it now. He couldn’t be serious, could he?

“What the hell?” Ronald groaned, flopping onto his bed and dropping his head onto his pillow. “I’ve lived with you for over five months now. Have I ever threatened y’ before?” Anthony shook his head and began wringing his hands nervously. 

“No—but I don’t want to take that chance. They will reply to me tomorrow, and if they say yes, then I’m moving out as soon as possible. I am sorry, Ronald, and I hope you don’t bear any ill will against me after this. This doesn’t mean I renounce our friendship, but I think you need time to learn how to control your anger.” The whole thing sounded so ludicrous that Ronald almost couldn’t take it, but it secretly disturbed him that Anthony thought he was a dangerous person. Despite that, he wasn’t going to try and argue with the stubborn fellow. 

 

A few days later, after Anthony received permission from the academy’s administration to transfer to another dorm, bit by bit, he started moving his things out. In a peculiar attempt to make amends, even though he didn’t understand for the life of him just why, Ronald helped him pack his things into boxes and move them. He watched as the priceless tea set was stored away, the dozens upon dozens of romance novels, and one of the very last things to leave the dorm: his precious flute. That was one thing Ronald was not going to miss, but then, he wasn’t going to miss a lot of things about the brunette. He was tolerable overall, and he was a good influence to the blond through his sleeping and study habits, but in general, he had nothing in common with Ronald. 

The morning after they finished backing the boxes, Ronald awakened to an empty dorm, and an unreasonable sense of sadness overcame the “deadly criminal.” He rolled out of bed to get ready to go out and buy breakfast, considering that he couldn’t enter the office complex even if just to eat at the cafeteria, but he paused when a little flash of orange crossed his vision. He turned his head to find a clementine perched upon his nightstand, and the smallest of smiles crossed his face. 

 

Days passed of Ronald sitting in the dorm and being driven insane with boredom. He would sleep in until one or two in the afternoon, after which he would force himself to get up and shower. He knew that his sleeping patterns were thoroughly messed, and it was going to be hell to try and correct it for when he returned to class.   
Eventually, he took it upon himself to read ahead in the textbook over the information that he supposed Mr. Spears was covering without him. At least that was more productive than building houses of cards or doodling lewdly on a napkin for entertainment. All of the spare time was beneficial, however, in that he had plenty of time to catch up on masturbation, and with Anthony gone, it was much easier. 

He would picture Mr. Spears most nights, and sometimes in the morning, and it would never take him long to reach his climax. After going to the pub a few more times with Allister, though, he started thinking of him occasionally as well as he pleasured himself. He produced a wonderfully spicy love triangle in his head, with plenty of dramatic confrontations and delicious lovemaking. Good gods, he was bored. 

One evening, at around six while he was flicking peanuts into his glass of water, he heard a knock sound at his door. With a start, his hand jerked and he knocked over the water so that it went dribbling, peanuts and all, down the side of his puny coffee table. With a curse, he hopped to his feet and trudged toward the door to see just who it was. A thought crossed his mind that it could potentially be Mr. Spears coming to inform him that he could come back to class, and he straightened his posture and trained his expression a bit so that he didn’t look so sloppy and annoyed. When he saw Jones standing there, though, he relaxed a bit. 

“Hey, Ronnie,” he said with a half-hearted smile, and Ronald smiled back stepping aside to let him in. “Mind if I talk to you for a bit?” Jones moved past the spilled water toward the dingy recliner that Ronald kept in one corner. 

“Nah, I got all the time in the world,” the blond huffed, glad to have a little company, really. He was prepared for a long, heartfelt conversation with the financially-deprived reaper, though he supposed that it couldn’t be helped. 

“Someone told me that your roommate moved out,” he began, “but I hadn’t heard the full story.”

“Ah yeah, Anthony shipped out because he thinks I’m some dangerous thug after I hit Sam—or some shit like that.” Jones laughed a little at that, because even to him it sounded ridiculous, and Ronald was caught off guard. He hadn’t heard his friend laugh in months, and he’d almost forgotten just how charming it was. He had a handsome smile, too. Ronald wondered why on earth women didn’t seem interested in him. Perhaps it was simply the aura of depression that hung about him that repelled any potential lovers from approaching him. 

“He’s a bloody nutter, but he wasn’t a rude chap,” Ronald said then, and Jones just nodded. There was a rather awkward silence that ensued for a few moments after that, before the brunette spoke up again. 

“Hey, Thomas practically lives with his lady now, so I hardly see ‘im as my roommate, and I was just wonderin’ if you might let me stay with you.” Ronald looked up to meet with Jones eyes for a moment, taken aback but not entirely surprised at the request. The blond grew emotionally drained hanging around the troubled lad for too long, but maybe him being around a friend who would actually give him the attention he desired would be a good thing for him. 

“Sure, Jonesy,” Ronald said after a few heartbeats of thought, and he offered a smile. “It’s been kinda lonely in here anyway.” Jones smiled back, casting his eyes into his lap.

“Thanks, Ron,” he said, sounding like he was terribly relieved. “I’m not a terrible roommate, or so I’ve been told. Thomas used t’ throw pillows at me when I’d snore, so you could do that if I do. Otherwise, I’m an angel.” The blond sniggered, plopping down on his bed and tossing a pillow right in the brunette’s face. Jones sputtered with a chuckle, but he threw it right back at Ronald. 

“Angel my arse,” the blond snorted. “I know you too well for that bullocks to pass. Even still, y’ get the top bunk, Angel Lips.” Jones shrugged, still grinning ear to ear.   
“I don’t mind. That’s what I have right now, so it might even be a little homier. As long as you do the cookin’ and cleanin’, there shouldn’t be any problem between us.”   
“Ah, you want a wifey, do ya? The only cleanin’ I ever do is my plate, though I’ll be happy to cook for you, if walking arm n’ arm to the cafeteria counts.” The two laughed together, and Ronald was already looking forward to this new roommate situation. The trainees chatted until around eight in the evening, when Jones sighed and explained that he’d better go and start writing a paper that Spears had assigned for the next day. 

“Am I missing a lot?” Ronald asked, dreading the answer but nearly dying of curiosity. 

“Lots of papers, which is bad for me, but fine for you. You’ve always been pretty good at writin’, haven’t you, Ronnie?” Ronald knew that he was. The essays were some of the only assignments that he was passing those days, but he wasn’t about to go bragging to Jones, who still was clinging to the skirts of his tutor. 

“Yeah, I’m okay I guess,” the blonde said nonchalantly. “Anything else?” Jones frowned suddenly and knit his brow, and Ronald did the same. “What’s that look for?”   
“Well, Spears told us today that we were going to start battle studies next week, and I’m kinda nervous for that.” The blond cocked his head to one side. 

“But haven’t we already covered battle strategies this year? I mean, it hasn’t been much, but I think I could take down a demon or a lower rank angel.” In truth, he probably couldn’t, but he wondered what the chances of such an encounter happening were anyway. 

“Yeah, we’ve read about it, but starting next week, we’re gonna start physically practicing. You had better read through those chapters as a refresher, because right now in class all we’re doing is analyzing them to death. On Friday, we’ll each be given our official training scythes. To keep.” Ronald’s eyes widened as Jones spoke. They had been lent cheap little scythes in the academy to mess around with, but Ronald had seen the true beginner scythes, and they were anything but cheap. 

“Real scythes? With real Soul Steel?” he asked, a touch of awe in his tone. Jones only nodded at him, and the corners of Ronald’s mouth quirked upward. “Badass.” The reality of the work it would take to honestly master a scythe went straight over the blonde’s head at that time, and all he could think about was just how wicked he would look slicing a demon to bits with a genuine scythe. 

“Yeah, at least one of us is excited for it,” Jones muttered, a fear reflected in his eyes. Ronald couldn’t help but feel bad for the lad; he needed a good strong dose of confidence. 

“Geezus, Jonesy,” Ronald huffed, leaning over where he sat to rest his elbows against his knees. “This is what reapers do, this is what we were made for! I bet you fifty quid that once you get that scythe in your hands, it’ll feel natural as breathin’ and eatin’.” Jones looked unsure, and Ronald just heaved another grand sigh. “You’ll be fine, mate. You just need to have more faith in yourself. We should go out sometime this week and see if we can’t find y’ a nice girl to dote on. Maybe that’ll lift you out of this slum.” Jones’ eyes brightened at the thought, though he tried not to look too eager. 

“It must be easy for you, Ron,” he mumbled. “You’re such a handsome bastard, I bet the ladies flock to you.” The blond couldn’t deny that he did indeed have his fair share of female admirers, but he didn’t have any interest in a single one of them. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it right away again. No, he wasn’t quite ready to tell Jones about his preference yet, and so he just shrugged his shoulders. 

“Not really,” he lied. “But you’re a dapper gentlemen. It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long without bein’ trampled by an adoring string of pretty little things.” Jones chuckled, noticing how hard his friend was trying to boost his spirits, and he flashed him a mischievous smirk. 

“You really think so?” he asked, a hopefulness in his eyes that Ronald couldn’t face for more than a few moments. 

“Of course I do,” Ronald said right back, reaching out to pat Jones on the knee before standing up and gesturing for him to follow. “If I know one thing, though, it’s that a successful man is a sexy man, so go and write your paper. Y’ know that’s why Sam never got laid, because he a lazy self-absorbed arsehole.” Jones leapt up from where he sat as though someone had lit a fire under his rear end, and Ronald snickered at him. 

“That’s motivation enough,” the brunette replied as he made toward the front door. “I’ll send in my roommate transfer request tomorrow morning, and hopefully they’ll reply soon.” 

“Sounds great, Jonesy,” Ronald smiled, nodding his head as his friend walked out and shut the door behind him. When he was alone again, his grin relaxed. He wondered just how Thomas would react to the news once he found out, even if Jones was denied the request. The fact that he tried might be enough to upset Thomas, and Ronald would feel guilty at helping create a greater gap in their friendship. Still, he wouldn’t mind having another roommate, especially if it was someone he knew a little better, like Jones. His eyes swept lazily across the room until they rested on his massive text book resting on his desk. A switch flipped on in his brain and he walked over to it immediately. 

He didn’t want to fall behind any more than he had to, and so he resolved to read through the five main chapters he knew of regarding proper fighting strategies. This could be his chance to impress William and redeem his crumbling reputation. He wouldn’t let his schooling have gone to waste, and he wouldn’t disappoint his mother. He was the most important reaper in the world to her, considering that Ronald’s father left them before he was born. His mother had raised him alone, but she never once complained that he was ungrateful, and she would never refuse him when he wanted to buy sweets or toys. Or training at the Grim Reaper Staffing Association Dispatch Academy of London. 

Eyes fierce with an unearthed determination, Ronald flipped open the book and began studying more diligently than he had in his entire life. 

 

The next Monday, he forced himself to wake up early so that he’d make it to class in time, but it proved to be easier said than done. After sleeping in so late for the past two weeks, he practically had to punch himself in the face to get out of his warm bed. He stumbled to his feet in his bright orange boxers over to his wardrobe, and he removed a clean suit to wear to class. A little smirk played at his lips as he gazed at it; he hadn’t realized just how much he’d actually missed class. 

With a yawn, he straightened his tie and meandered toward his desk to grab his text book and toss it into his messenger bag. After that, he headed out the door and nearly missed a little white envelope that had been taped to the outside of his door. He squinted in confusion before he picked it up and tore it open to read. 

KNOX, RONALD P.:

NOTICE TO RETURN TO CLASS. 

Ronald grinned when he saw William’s signature scrawled elegantly at the bottom of the note, and he thought to keep it. Still smirking like an idiot, the folded the little note and tucked it into his breast pocket before starting down the hall and out the door and toward the office complex cafeteria. 

Once he’d heaped a pile of delectable bacon and various other breakfast meats on his plate, he found that a bunch of his new and older friends were seated at a long table in the corner of the dining center. They cheered when they saw him approaching and Ronald grinned and held his nose a little higher in the air as he neared them.   
“Back to the grind, Ronnie,” Allister called out to him, gesturing at an empty space beside him. His heart fluttering for a moment, the blonde accepted the offer and threw his tray down beside the dark-haired trainee. 

“Yeah, but it feels good,” Ronald hummed, stabbing a sausage and bringing it to his mouth. 

“Catch up on some beauty sleep?” a chubby lad sitting across from him asked.

“Wot, can’t y’ tell?” Ronald asked, raising his voice to a strained falsetto and running his hand through his golden hair. A round of snickers arose from the table, and soon Allister was jabbing Ronald in his side with one elbow. 

“Y’ nervous to see Spears today?” he asked more quietly and the shorter reaper just looked at him and shrugged nonchalantly. “If looks could kill, y’ know that man would be a serial murderer. I suppose you’ll be getting’ the death glare for a few weeks now until you’ve proved your worth to ‘im again.” Ronald doubted that, but he was nervous for class. William had seemed surprisingly understanding, even though one unaccustomed to his severe stoicism may not have noticed it, so Ronald held hope that he would treat him no differently than before. 

“Maybe,” Ronald agreed merely for the sake of doing so. “Y’ wanna go drinking t’night, Al? Just a quick one?” It was a sudden question, and it took Ronald aback as it slipped from his lips, but he looked up at Allister to see his reaction. 

“Just you and me?” the taller trainee mumbled. “Sounds good, Ron. I’d like that.” In his mind, the blonde knew that he’d just asked the handsome lad out on a date, but he doubted that Allister saw it that way at all. 

“Great, let’s aim for eight then.”

 

36


	5. Chapter 5

Ronald walked into class beside some of the other guys, gripping his messenger bag a little tighter as he crossed the front of the room. He could feel his classmates’ unwavering gazes upon him, even though most of them were smiling as he passed them, and he could feel Mr. Spears’ as well. He merely glanced in his direction and flashed a little smile toward him before following his friends to a row of seats in the middle of the room. 

Once the bell rang, William rose from his desk and walked to the center of the floor. Ronald could feel a little shiver run along his spine as he looked into that handsome face for the first time in two weeks, and he almost let himself picture him completely nude, as he did while pleasuring himself in his dorm. He shut that thought down hastily, though, before it resulted in an unnecessary discomfort in his trousers. 

More than lust, though, he felt a deep respect for the man, and when he opened his mouth that that cultured voice met his ears, the blonde sighed. It was like music to him. 

“Good morning class,” Mr. Spears greeted. “Today we begin training with your first true scythes.” In an instant, an excited murmured came over the class and filled the room, but when William raised once hand, they silenced immediately. “For those of you who missed any day last week, please see me once the others have left for the training grounds.” Ronald knew that was him, and he wondered just how many other poor blokes were going to need to stay behind with him. 

“Scythes are not toys,” William continued in a firmer voice. “They are meant to slice flesh, to harvest records, but most significantly, to kill. Should anyone cut themselves or anyone else in what I should hope would be an accident, you ought to understand that the injury will not heal within our normal accelerated parameter. You will need to go to the infirmary, though do heed my warning when I assure you that scythe wounds are no joy to have to nurse back to health. Therefore, take caution.” 

Ronald only watched him, enraptured by the mere idea of finally receiving a scythe, and he was so close to getting his that he could practically feel it in his hand already. After William finished his brief lecture, students lined up and began walked by him in single file. As they did, the raven-haired man would summon one training scythe at a time, seemingly producing them out of thin air. Then, they would fall neatly into the hand of the student, who would ogle at it as they marched out the door. 

 

The blond watched them enviously, wanting to get his straight away, and his leg began to bounce up and down out of impatience. Finally, after dozens upon dozens of trainees had left the room, Ronald and two other reapers were all that was left with Mr. Spears. “Knox, you first. Come.” Ronald did as he was told, jogging down the stairs to meet his instructor at the front of the room. “Welcome back to class,” William said monotonously, and Ronald just smiled at nodded at him; he hadn’t been expecting such a “warm” greeting. 

“It’s good to be back, sir,” he said, respectfully lowering his eyes. 

“I’m going to ask you a series of questions for placement in evening classes so that you may catch up with the rest of your classmates,” he stated, and a bud of thrill bloomed in Ronald’s chest. He’d studied that book until he could no longer blink his eyes the night before, and he smirked a little to himself. “In what year did Grandfather Death invent the very first death scythe?” Ronald pursed his lips as he thought, and then the answer struck him. 

“In the year Omicron Fourteen Thousand,” he said confidently, and William raised an eyebrow at him as if he hadn’t been expecting the correct answer. 

“Correct. Next, who was the second reaper in existence to have reinvented the original scythe and shaped it into its now traditional sickle form?” 

“The Undertaker, Legendary Death,” Ronald said immediately, and William gazed into his eyes for a split second, trying to read him. He wondered if perhaps he had notes written upon his arm or some other covert area, but he couldn’t see how that would possibly be; the boy was staring at him so intensely that there was simply no way.   
“Correct. What is the order of steps in which a reaper handles his scythe before use in soul collection?”

“Before going out on collection, make sure your blade is polished. Next, attach it securely at your belt if it’s a trainin’ scythe so that it doesn’t fall off and into the wrong hands. Then, when you’re at the site of the client, press the release button on the belt to take hold of your scythe. Always grab from the bottom of the handle and pull backwards to remove it from the sheath.” Ronald paused to think, furrowing his brow, and his breath caught in his throat when he couldn’t remember the next step. His face flushed slightly out of embarrassment and he gazed up toward the ceiling as if the answer was floating somewhere up there. 

William waited politely for an answer, though after a few minutes, he picked up a pen and pad from his desk and began to write. “Mr. Knox, I would like for you to attend—”

“Ah! You pierce the heart to bring forth the records, and you must hold it at or near a forty-five degree angle to most effectively collect the reels. Otherwise, you could miss a week here and there of the mortal’s life and their cinematic record would be incomplete.” He exhaled deeply after he finished, trying not to grin arrogantly as William paused in his writing. “Oh and, uh—sorry for interrupting you, Mr. Spears, sir.” 

“It is alright, Knox,” the taller man sighed in his deep voice. “However, your answer is correct. Next. If a reel should happen to stray from your scythe, where should you sever it to most easily free yourself from its hold?” Ronald knew this one, and he almost blurted it out before the professor finished asking the question. 

“Closest to your own body as possible, ‘cause if you cut it at its root, then more of it will end up entering your soul. And I guess it really hurts.” Ronald had a mental image in his head of what such an occurrence would look like, and he shivered at the thought. He looked to William to find his brow furrowed a little, and he cocked his head curiously. 

“Correct. And I can assure you that is indeed painful.” A vivid memory flashed through William mind as he remembered his final assignment with that redheaded terror known as Grell Sutcliff. His stomach twisted at the thought of the reels entering his body at dozens of angles, forcing their way into his soul and filling his head with the life and memories of Thomas Wallis. He remembered the tears in his eyes not only at the immense physical pain, but also from the great mental anguish he experienced for those long few minutes. 

Ronald was startled to see his instructor’s eyes sadden for a split second before he trained his face back to austerity. But the blond had noticed. “Has it happened to you, sir?” He bit his tongue after he asked, hoping that it wasn’t too personal. He didn’t want to upset the man. “S-Sorry for askin’.”

“It’s fine,” William said flatly, shaking his head. “Yes, it has. It was one of the most painful experiences of my life, so I cannot emphasize enough how alert one must be when dealing with cinematic records. I believe in the grand scheme of things, it made me a better, more careful reaper, but it is not something I would wish upon anyone.” Ronald just looked at him for a moment. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling that it was a foolish thing to say, but he felt that he had to say something after that. 

“Don’t be,” William said sternly, fixing him with a perplexed expression. “You are not at fault. It was my own carelessness. But as I said, it has made me a better man. I regret none of it.” The blond stared at him in mild wonderment, and he felt that unreasonable urge to rush forward and kiss him again. Yet, he refrained, especially considering there were still other students in the room. “Now then, last question. What is the current model of training scythe we implement for students nowadays?” Ronald thought for a few moments before smiling.

“I believe it’s the MORTEM KXS Model 202444, sir.” William gave him a sharp little nod and summoned a large black ledger to hover in front of him. He examined it for a few heartbeats before finding Ronald’s name and filling in the box next to it with a bright red checkmark. 

“It seems you are prepared enough to join the others,” he told him, and Ronald wanted to jump for joy. All that damn bloody studying had really paid off. “You must have been busy these past few weeks, Mr. Knox.” 

“Yeah, all I did was eat, sleep, and study,” he joked with a chuckle to his voice. And get off thinkin’ of you, hot stuff. He snickered a little more at the thought. 

“Very good.” The raven-haired reaper waved his hand in a circular motion, and in an instant, a brand new, sickle scythe was twirling in mid-air between them. “Here is your training scythe, Ronald Knox.” The blond simply gazed at it for a moment, seemingly frozen where he stood in awe. He’d always dreamed of this moment, ever since he was a little boy, and now that it was actually coming true, it felt almost surreal.

Tentatively, he reached out for the slick matte handle and took a firm hold of it. Instantly, the levitation charm dissipated and the sickle dropped under the weight of gravity. It was a bit heavier than Ronald thought it would be, and his hand dipped a little when it fell. He held it up for a few moments to stare into the shining blade, seeing his own giddy grin reflected in the flawless Soul Steel. It was beautiful. 

“Thank you, sir,” he breathed, unable to pry his eyes from his new scythe. “Thank you.” William felt a peculiar tug at the corners of his lips, as if he wanted to smirk. It was fascinating to him just how enthused the boy seemed over a trifle like a training scythe. He himself had never been quite that overjoyed. There was a certain level of emotion he felt when he received his graduating scythe, of course, but never with his training scythe. Yes, there was something unique about Ronald Knox that he found refreshing, despite his reckless tendencies. But then, those were oddly refreshing, too. 

“Alright, you are dismissed. You will want to go and find room B-344, as this is where you will find your classmates.” He watched as Ronald swung his scythe in a small motion, and he raised an eyebrow at him. “And for heaven sake, be careful with that death scythe, Ronald Knox.” The blonde paused immediately, but he thought he heard amusement in William’s voice, and so he just grinned at him. 

“Aye, sir,” he said with a militaristic nod, humorously saluting him before marching proudly out to the door and toward Classroom B-344. He smirked all the way, staring down into his reflection in the blade as he walked, until he collided with a woman doused in sickly-sweet perfume. His glasses had been skewed, so all he could see at first was her long, scarlet tresses that trailed down past her hips. 

“Watch where you’re going, you little brat!” she hissed at him, though Ronald furrowed his brow at her voice, rough and strained. That was when he’d adjusted his glasses, though, and saw that the “woman’s” chest was flat as a pancake and that her feminine curves were not feminine at all. Beyond the long hair and makeup and high heels, this reaper was a man. A very thin man, but a man nonetheless. Ronald gaped in shock. 

“S-Sorry, ma’am,” he began before cutting himself off and swallowing hard. Now he’d done it. He’d gone and insulted this man-woman thing with razor-sharp teeth. “I-I mean—” 

“Oh?” the redhead said suddenly, his voice softening. “You think I’m a lady?” Ronald quite nearly sputtered a hasty no, but that was before he saw the utter mirth teeming in other reaper’s black-lined eyes. 

“Well of course,” Ronald grinned hesitantly, terribly tense and wishing only to be on his way. “And a right pretty one at that.” He winked at the other man, who smiled at him sweetly for a few more minutes before his lips twisted into a scowl and he smacked Ronald up the side of his head with a ledger he was carrying. “Ouch, what the hell?” the blond asked, placing a hand to the inflicted area, entirely confused. 

“Do you think I’m daft, or just stupid,” the redheaded man asked flatly, his voice lowering to reveal a more masculine tone. Ronald’s face turned red, partially out of humiliation though mostly out of anger. 

“Batty for certain, or maybe both,” he growled, his head throbbing, and the redhead’s eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe that the young man had just stood up to him in such a way. 

“Bold little biter, aren’t you,” he said with that strained falsetto as his voice sweetened again, and the blond just rolled his eyes at him. “I’ve not seen a boy with such a fiery spirit since—well, me. How charming.” Ronald had given up trying to determine if this reaper was being genuine or merely skillfully sarcastic, and he was tiring of the encounter altogether. 

“Are you in Will’s class, then?” the redhead asked with a sigh, tucking his binder beneath one slender arm to remove a glove and examine his blatantly manicured nails. Ronald narrowed his eyes in puzzlement for a heartbeat before he realized he was talking about Mr. Spears; he’d never heard him addressed so casually before. 

“Yeah, Mr. Spears is my professor,” he said, making a point of using his proper name. He watched as the elder reaper’s face split into a wide, dreamy, and daresay perverted grin. 

“That man is an ice prince,” the redhead purred, his eyes glazing over in supposed daydreaming, “but he is my ice prince.” He place a hand lightly to his heart and sighed again. “That chilling glare turns my insides to ice, and my burning passion for him is the only thing that is able to melt it again. That is what we are: fire and ice.” 

Ronald tried to hide an expression of surprise from coming over his face as the other man spoke. Just what was this ghastly creature to Mr. Spears? It sounded almost as if they were lovers by how freely the redhead was talking about him, and a great wave of jealously washed over Ronald. Then again, he couldn’t have expected such an exquisite man not to be taken, despite the nasty rumors that floated around about him. But still, was this the kind of person William was intrigued by? A sassy transvestite? It was a shock to say in the least, and he was so tempted to ask the man still writhing in bliss before him just what their relationship was, but he bit his tongue. 

“Good for you,” Ronald muttered, not wanting to look him in the eye. 

“What’s your name, sourpuss?” he asked as he came down from his delirious high. 

“What’s yours?” Ronald countered nippily, and the redhead raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Perhaps you’re not so much fiery-spirited as you are simply lacking in manners,” the other reaper huffed with a little grin. “What a pity.” 

“Ron Knox,” the blonde said bluntly, and not offering a word more. 

“Ronald Knox,” the redhead repeated, thoughtfully placing a finger to his chin. “Why, that has a lovely ring to it. I think I shall remember you.” He paused to trail his eyes along Ronald’s body somewhat lewdly, and the boy squirmed uncomfortably under the stare. “I am Grell Sutcliff,” the redhead answered him at last, bringing his eyes up to meet with Ronald’s. “I am the mistress of death, a reaper extraordinaire, and don’t you dare forget that, mm?” Ronald just shrugged, irritated, jealous and wanting nothing more than to get to class. When Grell realized that he wouldn’t be getting an answer out of the frumpy trainee, he turned on his high, very high, heels and began walking in the direction in which he was originally headed. “Oh, and tell Will I look forward to our next passionate encounter, won’t you?” Ronald, bristling inwardly, turned away from Grell and continued marching toward classroom B-344. He wasn’t even going to dignify that request with an answer.


	6. Chapter 6

Ronald entered the classroom to find a massive warehouse-looking facility with padded floors and dull concrete walls. Each of his classmates had been directed to a specific station complete with an interactive dummy and a hologram that described the most effective means to collect and to fight. Several senior reapers wandered the premises to oversee their progress and write down who was struggling with their training. Needless to say, Ronald was rather intimidated by the whole scene, and he waited until one of the instructors approached him. 

“Name?” asked an older reaper with slicked-back gray hair and round spectacles. 

“Uh, Ronald Knox,” the blond answered, his eyes sweeping across the grand room in awe, watching his peers executing intricate and deadly moves upon the automated dummies. 

“Mr. Knox, please follow me and I will lead you to your station.” He did as he was told, following the old man on a walkway just behind a long row of other students at their stations, until they came to one that was empty and waiting. Deftly, the gray-haired reaper ran his fingers along the side of a complex-looking console and it came to life instantly. A projector cast a keyboard into mid-air, and he typed in a passcode at an incredibly fast pace before it sounded a chime. Ronald watched as a screen lit up and the robot’s eyes turned an ethereal blue color as it powered up. His mouth went slack as he watched it move its arms into a defensive position, and he grinned a little in anticipation when it lashed out in a test of its various mobility sectors. 

“This station, number 12544 will be yours for the duration of this point in your training, and you are to treat it with respect and maturity. In other words, use this station for its intended purpose and nothing else, or you will be charged with cases of vandalism and be forced to pay a fine. Accidents are forgiven the first time, and anything beyond will result in a fee. Be aware that surveillance cameras surround the parameter.” Ronald looked up to find dozens of little black droids staring down at him, which he supposed were the aforementioned cameras, and he gulped. It was all so imposing. 

“Your unit will provide you with the tips and guidance necessary to pass Mr. Spears’ final defense exam, so study diligently and use your time wisely. Your progress will be logged. You have the option of a privacy shield if you are concerned in performing in front of your peers, though it is encouraged that you go without after your first week or so.” Ronald understood that; he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his mates if this robot ended up kicking his ass, but he felt confident enough in his abilities already. He wasn’t too worried. “Best of luck, Mr. Knox.” 

With that, the instructor walked away and Ronald was left on his own to figure out just how this thing worked. Unsure, he pushed a promising-looking green button in the center of the control panel, and another chime rang. “Battle mode, Level 1, initiated,” the computer stated monotonously, and Ronald grinned proudly at his correct guess. The robot moved to its defensive position again. With his trademark cocky smirk, Ronald lunged forward with his scythe to put the machine in its place, only to be stunned as it countered his attack in an instant and knocked him flat onto his butt and across the padded floor behind him. For all to see. Some reapers turned their heads to look at him and some snickered, but most kept to their work, much to the blonde’s surprise. 

Utterly embarrassed, Ronald stood, patted the dust from his trousers and hobbled back to his station. When he returned, he found that the program had made a bullet-point list of the mistakes he’d made in that fraction of a second, as well as a separate list of solutions which he could implement to improve his technique. Before he even thought to read them, though, he instantly put up the privacy shield so as not to let others watch him fail again. “Damn wanker,” Ronald cursed as his backside began to throb, glaring toward the robot, “you’re tougher than you look.”

Ronald tried again after a few minutes of reading through the advice, which ended up being more helpful than he thought it would be. He followed the program’s tips and proceeded with a more controlled caution than before, though the mechanism still ended up knocking the wind out of him and sending him to his knees in pain. “Bloody hell,” he gasped, dropping his scythe and grasping his aching abdomen. 

For the next three hours, the blond tried fruitlessly to conquer Level 1, which was equivalent to nothing more than a lowly lesser demon in ability. He thought of William who could probably take down such a creature in a matter of moments, and he felt like a complete idiot. Then again, the raven-haired man had his conveniently long scythe that didn’t force him to get so up close and personal with his rival, as Ronald was forced to do with his training scythe. 

Ronald had been about to try again, panting and aching all over, when the bell rang in the class’s dismissal. Slightly frustrated, but mostly relieved, Ronald shut down his machine and followed everyone else out the door. His face was swollen from when the robot struck him in the jaw once, and he was certain one of his eyes was going to turn black, but when he saw the shape his fellow students were in, he didn’t feel quite as bad for himself. Many of them escaped the room with equally as brutal bruises and aches as Ronald had. When he saw Jones emerge from the room, the two paused to look at one another with most serious scowls on their faces. Then, as if on cue, they both burst into raucous laughter. 

“Great gods, Ron, you look like hell!” Jones sputtered, his face red as a cherry. 

“You’re not lookin’ so hot yourself,” Ronald replied immediately, and the two continued to chuckle for a while until it died down. “Must’ve kicked your arse pretty good.”

“Yeah, I managed to make it to Level 3, though, so I’m pretty proud of myself for that, at least.” Ronald blanched at the news; even Jones was able to make it that far. Still, he had a year’s worth of practice on the blond, and that likely helped quite a lot. 

“Hey, good for you,” Ronald said, delivering a pat to the back that made the brunette cringe in pain. 

“Oi, watch it,” he hissed, one hand reaching back to try and rub the sore spot. He paused and waited to see if Ronald would tell him how far he’d made it, and when he received no such reply, he could only assume that he hadn’t done as well as he had. “I think I’ll find out tomorrow if they accepted my request,” Jones told him then, a glimmer in his green eyes. Ronald smiled at him, until a thought occurred. 

“Have you told Thomas about all this yet?” he asked, and Jones’ beaming sobered a touch. 

“Yeah, he’s pretty pissed, but that’s none of my concern. Never see ‘im anyway, so I don’t get what the big deal is.” 

Ronald nearly kicked himself, concerned that he’d marred their already unstable friendship, but he knew better than that. Jones needed a roommate that would be a better friend, and the blond was plenty lonely, so it only seemed a logical arrangement. 

Suddenly, Ronald caught sight of Thomas approaching them, and he held his breath. Much to his surprise, however, the lanky blond passed them by stoically as if the pair didn’t even exist. Jones just shook his head as he watched him leave. 

“He’s prone t’ getting’ upset like this, Ron, so don’t worry yourself over it. He can be rubbish sometimes.” Ronald felt somewhat uncomfortable about how coldly Jones was speaking about his roommate, and rather loudly so that perhaps Thomas could hear them to boot. 

“Okay,” was all Ronald knew to say before shuffling his feet in an awkward silence. “Well I’ve gotta get home and start studying. Later tonight I’m goin’ out with Allister, and I don’t wanna have to do work when I’m bloody soused.” Jones just nodded at him, obviously deep in thought, and Ronald simply walked away from him after another heartbeat. He wasn’t certain of a lot of things in his life right then, but he knew that Thomas and Jones needed to work out their conflicts. 

 

When eight rolled around, Ronald had gotten a good portion of his latest essay done, and he felt at ease enough about it to leave a little early to the pub. On the drive there, he couldn’t help himself from thinking about Allister’s charming face and toned body. He recalled one day last week when the young reaper had removed his shirt to dry his hair after one of the guys poured beer over his head in a drunken prank; his muscles were divine, and Ronald had to look away to assure that he wouldn’t put himself in a disgraceful state in front of all of his mates. The blond sighed when he realized that it barely took a breeze to arouse him, and his hand wasn’t satisfying him quite enough as of late. 

He stepped into the pub wearing a handsome navy blue dress shirt under a fitted black waistcoat. Underneath his outfit was a fine collection of bumps and bruises, though. When he didn’t see Allister, he supposed that he hadn’t yet arrived, so he helped himself to a pint of ale at the bar while he waited for him. 

“Ronnie,” he heard that familiar voice call, and Ronald looked to the door to find his latest crush nearing him with that charming smile. “Getting pissed without me?” he joked, and Ronald pointedly gulped the rest of his ale, which was really a good amount. 

“You bet,” Ronald replied with a sigh, gesturing for the bartender to bring him another. “Geezus, you don’t look half was bad as I do. That damn robot beat my arse to a pulp.” Allister just grinned at him and shrugged, running a hand through his dark hair. 

“I didn’t make it that far,” he insisted, “only to about Level 7.” Ronald nearly had to scrape his jaw off of the floor as the other trainee spoke, and he blurted out the first question that popped into his head. 

“This has to be your second year,” he breathed with wide eyes. “No bloody way you can be that good.” Allister raised an eyebrow at him and shook his head.   
“Nah, it’s my first year,” he said. “Maybe it’s just beginner’s luck.” Ronald snorted as another tall glass of ale was slide over the counter for him. 

“I didn’t get any,” he sighed with a rueful smile. “You made it a shit ton farther than me.” Of course Allister was curious as to just how far that was, but he wasn’t going to pry him for an answer. 

“You’ll get there soon enough,” he said reassuringly, grasping Ronald on the shoulder as he so often did and rubbed it for a moment. The blond was tempted to lean into the taller man’s touch, but he thought that it might make the night weird for both of them. “It’s gonna take us all weeks to get through all of the levels anyway, so who cares if someone is a little behind on the first day?” 

“You’re probably right. How many levels are there in this thing, though?” He almost didn’t want to hear the answer, but he had to know. Allister rolled his eyes in supposed exasperation at the thought. 

“Instructors say there’s a hundred.” 

“Holy fuck,” Ronald groaned, dropping his head onto the bar counter and pouting at the dark-haired reaper. Allister just laughed at the little display as he was given a pint of Guinness to enjoy. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty o’ time to focus on your training. Spears is only giving us formal lessons two days a week for a while so that we can hone some skills with our scythes.” That was good; even just based on that day alone, Ronald knew he was going to need all the time he could get. “We’re gonna be sick of concrete walls and padded floors when this is all said and done.” 

“Hey, when I was trying to find the training room today, I bumped into the nuttiest bloke.” He thought back to that bipolar redhead and gave an inward shudder. “You know the name ‘Grell Sutcliff?’” A snicker burst from Allister’s lips as he placed his Guinness to them. 

“Everyone knows that name, Ron,” he replied, and Ronald felt a twinge of annoyance. “The guy with long red hair and teeth like little daggers? Yeah, everyone knows ‘im, and everyone avoids ‘im.” He paused to take a long gulp of his drink, and the blond scrunched his brow together. “He’s known for having a fiery temper, and there are tales floatin’ around that he kills mortals for fun—who aren’t meant to be reaped just yet.” At that, Ronald couldn’t help but scoff.

“That’s insane,” he muttered with a disbelieving grin. “If everyone knew he was that dangerous, then wouldn’t they have locked ‘im up by now?” It only seemed logical; why would they keep a potential murderer loose in the association? Mr. Spears certainly wouldn’t stand for it. No, it had to be bullocks. Ronald’s heart ached for a moment at the thought of the stoic man. 

“Is he shaggin’ Spears or somethin’, Al? He talked like he was.” With that, Allister sputtered and ale quite nearly shot out his nose as he laughed heartily. Ronald joined in, though it was strained. He really did want to know the answer, but by then he doubted if Allister knew. 

“That’s the most precious thing I’ve heard all week,” he rasped once he chuckling began to cease. “Gods, Ronnie—you ever seen the two together?” 

“Well no—so that’s a ‘no’ then?” he asked hopefully, though considering the dark-haired youth was a first years just like him, he had his doubts as to whether or not he really knew the answer. 

“Shit, I guess I don’t know for certain. All’s I know is that whenever the two are together, the redhead is pawin’ all over Spears, and he just gets upset and smacks ‘im away. I dunno, that’s just what I’ve seen. Maybe the tension between ‘em makes for good fucking later on.” Ronald felt sick even at the thought of William with that bizarre man-woman maniac. “Spears doesn’t seem the type to go after nutters like that, but I don’t know much about him to start with I guess.” He shrugged and continued with his drink, his eyes trailing along the body of a comely brunette woman who had just approached the bar beside them. 

“Yeah, just a thought,” the blond mumbled as he stared into the amber liquid of his drink, though he knew that Allister wasn’t listening to him anymore. He had already gotten up and was trying to strike up a conversation with the pretty young lady. Ronald watched them enviously, like a jealous schoolboy, as Allister would wink charmingly at her and buy a drink, and she would accept the offer with a seductive smile. Ronald rolled his eyes behind their backs. 

He didn’t understand the appeal of women. They seemed like too much sugar and spice with no amount of danger. That’s what Ronald liked, a man who wasn’t afraid to put him in his place. His mind immediately went to William again, though instead of him upon the taller reaper’s bed, his mind placed that garish redheaded man there, whispering lewd things into his love’s ear and running those manicured nails along his pale back. The blonde’s bile rose, and he severed that train of thought.   
Then he saw Allister lean in to kiss the woman, and that was the last straw. It was obvious to him by then that he wasn’t at all interested in men, so those plans had been dashed royally. Ronald rose from his seat, downed the rest of his drink and made toward the snogging pair. “Get a room,” he said, forcing a good-natured smile onto his face. He smacked Allister in the shoulder, who just smirked back at him. 

“Who’s this?” the woman asked breathlessly, and Allister gave her one last peck to the lips before nodding in Ronald’s direction with a wink. 

“This is my mate, Ronnie,” he said, one hand reaching out to feel at the long brown curls that framed her face. “And he’ll be leavin’ us be now.” He raised an eyebrow at his friend, still grinning like a horny idiot, though Ronald took the hint. In spite of himself, he stooped down and placed a little smooch to the young woman’s pale cheek. 

“You take good care of ‘im, yeah?” he said, and she just smiled back at him meekly. Ronald then turned to Allister and bent to place a big, comically sloppy kiss to his lips as well. The dark-haired reaper’s eyes went wide as he felt Ronald’s tongue plunge into his mouth for a moment, and before he could even think to shove him away, the blond withdrew with a dirty smile. “As for you, don’t be an arse.” He said it so casually that Allister didn’t have the chance to think it was anything beyond the boy’s typical antics, so he just grinned back at him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Allister mumbled, wiping his grinning mouth off pointedly on his sleeve. “I’ll see you later, Ron.” Ronald simply gave a little salute as he walked away from them, tossing a pound note on the counter to pay for his drinks before leaving the pub. When he hopped into his car, though, he sat for a moment and thought about what he’d just done; his lips still tingled. He’d tried very hard to seem nonchalant about it, but he truly had savored the feel of Allister’s thin lips. With a grand sigh, he plopped his head onto the steering wheel. And the horn went off. 

With a yelp, he raised his head and was startled when the horn didn’t cease. Growing frustrated, he beat at the steering wheel in a pathetic attempt to shut it up, but it didn’t do a blessed thing. With a groan, he flung open the door and propped the hood up to try and figure out just what was wrong with his junky vehicle. He didn’t know much about cars—at all—but he knew that he had to disconnect the cords that led to the horn. He‘d done this once before, but it had been a few years, and when he grabbed a cluster of cords to yank out, he wasn’t entirely sure. Swallowing, he tugged firmly at them, and one snapped right in two, sending a little spray of sparks at him and shocking him slightly. 

Cursing, Ronald leapt backwards and held his burned hand. It was then that the horn chose to raise its decibel considerably, then emitting a much louder, higher-pitched sound. Other reapers in the general vicinity started looking at him in irritation, and Ronald wanted to tell each and every one of them to piss off. Angry, tired, and wanting nothing more than to go home, the blonde reached back under the hood and began pulling each and every cord he could find in hopes of quieting his beastly car. Finally, he’d pulled them all out and the horn silenced immediately. 

His heart beating rapidly and his hands blackened with oil, Ronald slammed the hood and turned to rest his rear end against it. Except now, he had absolutely no idea where all of the cords were supposed to be plugged in again. Cussing again, he pounded his fist into the hood and began pacing around the car, kicking the tires and everything else he could find until he’d thoroughly tired himself out. Just as he was assaulting the driver’s side tire, he heard a car slow behind his back. 

He turned around to find a beautifully expensive black car, shining as if it had just been washed and purring healthily. When he saw who its driver was, he quite nearly fainted in embarrassment; of course it had to be William.

The window had been rolled down to reveal his handsome face, and he was raising an eyebrow in amusement at the younger man. 

“Are you experiencing troubles with your automobile, Mr. Knox?” he asked in that cultured tongue, and Ronald asked the gods just why they hated him so. What were the chances that William, the man of his dreams, would happen to pull up beside him just in time to see him humiliating himself grandly? 

“Y-Yeah,” Ronald panted, brushing his golden hair from his eyes. “It’s fine, though,” he tried, then, not bothering to offer an explanation as to why. William nodded his head for Ronald to come nearer, and the blond, while hesitant, wasn’t about to refuse the man. 

“I shall drive you home, though I suggest you contact a towing service straight away.” Ronald was nearly in shock as his feet carried him toward the gorgeous vehicle and into the passenger seat. The inside was aglow with a series of intricate instruments, and the seats were crafted out of dark brown leather. 

“Thank you so much, sir,” he offered feebly as he looked around the car in awe. “You have a lovely car.” William’s face remained unreadable as he put the vehicle into drive and started down the road. 

“Thank you. You live in the dorms, yes?” 

“Yeah, so it’s not too far from here,” Ronald answered obediently, turning his head to glance at William. In such close proximity, the blond detected a rich scent that could have been cologne, or perhaps simply a potent brand of soap, but even that alone was enough to melt away a little of his self-control. He hadn’t meant to stare, but that was what he ended up doing for a few heartbeats. That flawless pale skin, his sharp jawline, that elegantly pointed nose, and those piercing eyes. Which were currently fixed on the road, of course. When he caught himself, he coughed as a distraction and quickly turned away, as if it hadn’t been obvious enough already. If William had noticed, he didn’t say anything about it. 

“I was pleasantly surprised to discover that you had taken the time to study during your absence,” he said stoically. Ronald gave a little chuckle, leaning back in the seat a bit. 

“I didn’t wanna be that one poor sap who falls behind,” he said with a dry smile. William slowed to turn a corner, and the blond couldn’t help but admire just how smooth the ride was. Would it have been his car at that corner, it would have likely sputtered and slid; there was one instance when it even died right in the middle of an intersection. 

“Unfortunately, there are plenty of students struggling more than you, though I noticed how you weren’t able to pass Level 1 today in training once I looked over the reports.” Ronald felt his cheeks heat, and he was thankful that William was such a diligent driver so that he wouldn’t remove his eyes from the road to peer at him. He would probably have seen bright red cheeks.

“Oh, yeah—that robot is tougher that she looks,” he huffed, reaching up to touch at a bruise on his face. 

“’She’?”

“I think so. Those little knobs on her chest kinda look like—” He caught himself once he remembered just who he was talking to, and he felt embarrassed all over again.

“Breasts, Mr. Knox?” William finished for him, his voice betraying absolutely nothing, as usual. 

“Y-Yeah,” Ronald mumbled half to himself, wishing he could have just disappeared in that moment. Mr. Spears must have thought he was terribly immature.   
“I suppose in the back of my mind, I’d always thought the same, silly as it may be.” Ronald was stunned to hear him say that, though he felt a sense of relief at the same time. A thought occurred him, then, and he tried to hold his tongue. He had remembered the request that the redheaded man asked of him earlier in the day, and an odd urgency began rushing through Ronald. He needed to bring it up. 

“Oh hey, Mr. Spears?” the blond piped up, and he saw the man’s eyes flicker toward him for a moment to let him know he was listening. “I ran into Mr. Sutcliff in the hall today, and he wanted me to tell you—tell you that he looks forward to meeting with you.” He watched as William furrowed his dark brow, and he was rather surprised when the man gave a huff of apparent disgust. 

“Sutcliff is deranged,” he said bluntly. “I implore you not to get involved with him.” That didn’t answer Ronald’s nagging question, necessarily, but it was a glimmer of hope perhaps. 

“He seemed like an interestin’ character,” Ronald continued, curious to see just what Mr. Spears would say about him. 

“That is generous of you to describe him so kindly,” he sighed. “He has always been a thorn in the side of the Association.” Ronald pursed his lips after that, so very temped to come right out and ask about their relationship, but that could have easily landed him in a sea of fire. He didn’t want to anger Mr. Spears again right after he’d had the chance to make partial amends with him, that much was certain, and so he decided to drop the topic altogether. 

“When is the final exam for this unit, sir?” he asked, trying to make conversation with William, whose brow was still knit tightly. At the question, he relaxed a bit.   
“It will be one month from next Tuesday.” 

Ronald’s heart nearly stopped at the news; he would have to complete several levels in one day in order to meet that deadline, but he wondered if he really had to finish the entire program to qualify for the exam or not. Perhaps it was just a means to study and not a required assignment.

“What if some people don’t finish that training thing?” 

“The exam is to be given only to those who complete the course fully, and those who do not will be forced to drop out and try again the following year. Or not.” Ronald jolted in his seat, and his eyes widened to the size of saucers. 

“I understand, sir,” he said quietly, though he knew he’d have to try especially hard to make it through the program. Nothing seemed to come easily to Ronald where training was involved. He could pick up a saxophone and play jazz like no one had ever seen, he was a wonderful lover, he could pull off any color under the rainbow and still look sexy, but when it came to work—real work—he always had to push himself to his limits in order to reach his goals. 

“Each deadline was in the syllabus I presented at the beginning of class,” William reminded him, and the blond thought he recalled that blue piece of paper which he’d promptly thrown away after class the first day. “Which dormitory complex do you live in?” 

Ronald looked up to find that they were already pulling into the residential areas. 

“Um, Walsh,” Ronald said quickly, for the turn was approaching. Even still, William didn’t miss a beat as he took a right and pulled up alongside the towering building. He looked toward Ronald when he came to a stop, though for one reason or another, the blond couldn’t bring himself to move. A question lingered on his tongue, and his body wasn’t seeming to let him leave the vehicle until he asked it. “Well, thanks for the ride, Mr. Spears. I’d still be beatin’ on my car if you hadn’t come along.”

“Do you think perhaps anger management therapy would benefit you?” Ronald blushed; great, now William thought him to be a violent person, too. Maybe he really was? He shook his head at the thought dismissively, and that question entered his mind once again. 

“Nah, sir, I’m just tired t’night,” he insisted with a jovial smile, and the next words that spilled from his lips he could never take back. “Hey, I’m free this weekend,” he began nonchalantly, twisting in his seat to face William full-on, though when he met that sharply-featured face and those cold eyes, his blood turned to ice in his veins. 

“If you are, too, we should go out for coffee.” He paused to wait for a reply, though when he saw Mr. Spears raise an eyebrow at him, a seed of doubt sprouted in his chest. 

“I hope you are not trying to curry favor with me, Ronald Knox. I refuse to change one’s grades because they see it appropriate to kiss my rear end. Professional matters such as that do not belong in personal life.” Ronald cringed at how flatly he spoke, almost like he was used to rejecting people before, but he couldn’t leave him like that. After clearing his throat, he shook his head and offered another casual smile. 

“That makes a world of sense to me, Mr. Spears,” he insisted, boldly locking gazes with William. “I feel the same way. I just want a chance to get to know you a little better. I’ve heard about all you’ve done for London’s branch and for the association as a whole, and you’ve become a real inspiration to me.” It wasn’t a lie, merely a stretch of the truth; never before had Ronald been so “inspired” during masturbation until he began imagining William. He couldn’t resist, for a moment, the lewd images that flooded his head, but he was quick to push them out before he embarrassed himself in an entirely different manner. 

William only looked at him for a few moments, seemingly skeptical as to whether or not the boy was telling the truth. He’d had so many employees try to win him over with dinners and senseless little gifts, but he could see through them as if they were made of glass. He was fairly certain that Ronald was trying the same thing with him, but there was something in his eyes which made him uncertain. He couldn’t quite pinpoint just what it was, and that irritated him greatly. 

“Thank you, Knox,” he said politely, and then another heartbeat of silence filled the classy car. With a sigh, William glanced at his student once again. “If ever I come across free time in my schedule, then perhaps we could meet. I shall call you if an opportunity opens up.” Ronald could hardly believe his ears, and his smile grew ever-wider as the other man spoke. 

“That sounds great, sir!” he chirped, opening the door to the car and hopping out onto the street before William could take it back. 

“Knox,” the raven-haired reaper called as the younger man was about to shut the door. “If I am to contact you, I will need a phone number.” Standing there for a moment, Ronald then ducked back into the car and sat while he rummaged through his pockets in hopes of finding any scrap of paper or a pen. He found none.

“Ah, could I just give it to y’ tomorrow?” he asked, every fiber of his being screaming in hopes that he hadn’t just ruined his chances. If William wanted an opportunity to back out, this was a gaping one. Ronald held his breath as he awaited a reply, though he exhaled when he saw the other man nod slowly. 

“Very well,” he said, and Ronald’s grin returned. “I shall see you tomorrow then, Mr. Knox.” With that, Ronald took the cue and got back out of the car. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you later, sir,” he said. “Thanks again.” He closed the door and watched as the slick black car began driving away. It would take him decades upon decades to be able to afford such a thing, though he didn’t have a difficult time imagining himself in that position eventually. When he was certain that Mr. Spears was out of sight, he gave a little jump of joy and thrust his fist into the air. He knew that he’d either have been kicking himself or patting himself on the back after asking such an idiotically bold question, though he was extremely glad that it was indeed the latter. 

He couldn’t believe it, truly. He had just scheduled a potential date with Mr. Spears, even though the other man didn’t see it that way at all. He could picture it now, him waltzing up to the front of the class with a little piece of paper in the morning bearing his carefully-written phone number. He would wink at William, and the man would reply with a seductive smirk. Then, Ronald would stoop to place a passionate kiss to his lips from where Mr. Spears was seated at his desk, and the whole class would be watching them snog right then and there. 

Of course it was merely a fantasy. If he was actually so stupid as to try such a stunt like that, then he wouldn’t be surprised to end up in a similar situation to Sam’s. Except that Ronald might be sent to an insane asylum for sexually assaulting his professor instead of simple expulsion. 

He pushed his ridiculous train of thought out of his mind and gave a little skip as he walked into the dormitory. Some lights were still on, though many were off. Ronald presumed that a good chunk of his classmates were just as tuckered out as he was after such a rigorous day of training. If he knew one thing, it was that his muscles were going to be screaming tomorrow when he tried to get out of bed.


	7. Chapter 7

The next few weeks were filled with nothing but struggle for Ronald, unfortunately. There were the small pleasantries that kept him afloat, such as the fact that Jones had been able to move in with him. The pair was getting along swimmingly, just as they both had hoped they would, and now Ronald didn’t think he could go back to living by himself again. There were days when they were terse with one another, but they’d come to understand not to take it personally, as it was likely the cause of school-related stress. Other such saving-graces were the fact that the cafeteria had gotten a new head chef who charged lower rates for their meal plans—and prepared amazing deserts every day. Ronald was happy when Jones was starting to fill out a bit more again, though the young man’s financial situation only continued to deteriorate. That concerned Ronald. 

Another concern the blond felt was that William hadn’t once called him to go out for coffee. He started to wonder if perhaps his agreeing to do so when he found the time was merely a polite rejection. Ronald didn’t want to bring himself to believe it, though. His greatest fear at that point, however, was how there was only one week left until the grand final exam for that particular unit, and he had only made it to Level 44. He had bruises and gashes running all across his body, speckling him as if he were a dappled show pony, but he had never been deterred. Only after realizing he had so little time left did he truly begin to panic. 

There he was again, at the bottom of the food chain. Everyone else, it seemed, was at least on Level seventy or so, including Jones, who had just completed Level 76 the last time Ronald had spoken with him about it. He knew the brunette was determined to pass that year, and he admired the courage and strength he was putting forth to completing the intensive training program. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel like a failure in comparison. 

That night, one week away from the exam, Ronald felt like he needed to vent his frustration to Jones. 

“I just don’t get how you do it,” he huffed, his chin resting on his knees as he sat on the bed. “I’ve been tryin’ my hardest, and that fuckin’ robot just keeps kickin’ my arse.” He ran a hand through his golden hair to push his bangs from over his eyes, and Jones thought he could see worry lines running across his forehead. He frowned. 

“Is your scythe damaged at all?” he asked, wanting to help his friend out of this rut he’d found himself in. 

“Nah, I took it to Mr. Spears last week and he said it was just fine.” Sighing, he grabbed the scythe from its holster, which had been resting on his nightstand, and ran a finger along the smooth side of the shining blade. 

“Have you been stretching before and after training so that you’re not all tensed up? I thought it was bullocks my first year, but it really does help, y’ know.” Jones cringed at the memory of just how sore he used to get from the lack of proper preparation, and he didn’t want that same pain for Ronald. 

“Yeah, actually. I have.” The blonde’s eyes were glazed over as he stared into the plain white walls of their dorm. “I just don’t know why I’m so bad at this when even the scrawny little twats can do it better.” Jones didn’t respond for a short while as he pondered; Ronald dove under the covers, and he rolled over to face the wall. 

“You’re…you’re following the correction prompts after the machine beats you, right?” Jones asked slowly, as if he couldn’t believe Ronald would be quite that dense, but the blond rolled back over with a furrowed brow and stared at him. 

“You mean those little notes that flash across the screen?” he asked. “Yeah, of course I read ‘em.” Jones’ eyes widened after he spoke, as if he finally understood the problem. 

“Are you serious?” Jones sat up a bit further in his seat and fixed Ronald with a stern gaze. “Those notes are well and good, but I don’t ever read them. What I mean is the breakdown the robot goes through with you to help you fix your problem when you’ve failed. You push the yellow button and the orange one at the same time and it will demonstrate the proper moves you can attempt instead of what you used before. All this time you’ve been goin’ without that?” 

Ronald’s mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but the only word that came to his lips was, “Shit.” He’d never actually learned to work the program, so all along he’d only been guessing as to how it really worked. 

“You’ve been takin’ the hard way all this time, Ronnie,” Jones breathed, incredulous, though he was stunned when Ronald grinned, then burst into raucous laughter. The brunette wondered for a moment if his friend had truly lost it. 

“Gods, I’m a bloody idiot!” he guffawed, placing a hand to his stomach once he stumbled out of the bed and leaned against the wall. By the time he finished laughing, his eyes were watering and his abdomen ached, but Ronald couldn’t think of anything else to do.   
He would be very busy for the next week, it seemed. 

 

“Level 89 completed,” the robot spoke that Wednesday; the test was to be on Monday. Ronald panted as he lowered his scythe, sweat soaking through his suit and his face flushed with exhaustion. He was getting so close, and he was determined to finish the program. He’d completed over forty levels in the past few days, having been granted permission to stay a few hours later than everyone else to try and catch up. Jones taught him how to work the assistance mode, just as he’d told him about that Monday, and Ronald seemed to fly through the levels after that. The comparison was night and day. 

The deadline for completion of the training program was that Friday, so the blond would most certainly be cutting it close, though he wasn’t nearly as swamped as he had been before. At least now it was feasible, and that was all he really needed. 

Another blessing was the fact that Mr. Spears had been gone quite a lot for the past week, so each student had extra time to spend in the training room as opposed to being dealt extra writing assignments. Ronald wondered over just what was keeping him so busy, though he’d heard plenty of rumors. Everyone had been saying that some reaper had gotten himself into a grand mess of trouble, and that William was being forced to try and defend him in reaper court of law, though nothing had been officially released at that point. The blonde had noticed the rigidity with which Mr. Spears would walk down the hall on the days he happened to pass him, and he was tempted to ask how he was. 

He also wanted to ask if he would still be interested in coffee sometime, though that ordeal had been pressed to the back of his mind. It was apparent that the man was distressed, and he didn’t want to push his buttons. This didn’t mean he was going to give up on his crush, however. 

 

Ronald returned to the dorm that night feeling utterly tuckered out, though it was a good type of tiredness. His grades had been bumped up over the past couple of weeks, and by then, it looked as though he truly did have a chance of passing the class. After all of the nightmares and ghost stories he’d heard about students failing and having to pay pretty sums of money to retake the class, he was amply motivated to keep out of that rut he’d been stuck in before. He was proud of his progress thus far, and he thought that Jones was proud of him, too. 

“What’s the tally today, Ron?” Jones asked with a smile when his roommate trudged in looking like he’d been dragged to hell and back. 

“Level 89,” the blonde puffed, shrugging off his blazer and tossing it carelessly on the floor. That was one huge difference in having Jones as a roommate: neither of them were terribly fond of cleaning, as Anthony had been, so the dorm was one big disaster area. Then again, neither of them really cared. 

“That’s great!” Jones exclaimed, leaping up to embrace Ronald for a moment and pat him on the back. “I was so worried about you failing.” The blond was surprised to hear just what level of relief the brunette’s voice held, but he wasn’t loath to hug him back. “You need a damn bath, though, Ronnie. Your shirt is soaking wet.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know it,” Ronald snorted with a grin, unbuttoning his damp waistcoat and dress shirt and tossing them on the floor as well. The cool air felt wondrous on his bared skin, and he simply reveled in the sensation for a few moments. “I’m gonna be nice and sore tomorrow, I think.” His whole body was still covered in bumps and bruises, but at least reapers healed quickly so that they didn’t really become an issue. 

“You’d better get to sleep early tonight,” Jones suggested. “You must be starvin’, though. Why don’t I make us some sandwiches while you wash up?” Ronald just flashed him that charming smile from over his shoulder as he walked toward the bathroom. 

“Sounds great, Jonesy.” 

That night, with a full stomach and muscles feeling like sacks of sand, Ronald had the best sleep he’d had in a great while. He woke up the next morning feeling completely refreshed, even though he was indeed a touch sore, just as he’d expected to be. This was hardly a hindrance, however, for by the end of the day, he had completed the remainder of the program. With less than a day before the deadline. He celebrated with all of his mates that night, considering they all had finished it too. The pub was packed with reveling students, and Ronald went back to the dorm that night feeling just a little more than buzzed. 

Come Friday morning, he had a slight hangover, but not the worst he’d ever experienced by far. He went to class with a headache, but his excitement overpowered the pain greatly. Mr. Spears was back, despite his curious busyness, and he stood at the front of the class presenting one last review of all of the lessons his students ought to have learned from the rigorous training program. Ronald watched how the man moved so stiffly, as if he was terribly tense, and he felt a pang of sympathy for him; he worked so hard every waking hour he spent at the office, though it was blatant that he could use a break to recuperate. The blond thought it might be a little inappropriate to offer to give him a massage, though he was tempted to ask. 

“According to my records, all but nine of you have completed the defense program. You will notice that those nine have already been dismissed from class.” That was just polite talk in place of coming right out to say that they’d been failed, Ronald knew. “Do not allow yourself to relax just yet, however. Your final exam is to incorporate all you’ve learned thus far in battle technique, and you will be tested on your speed, strength, and overall agility when dealing with a worthy rival. Should you fail this final exam, you will promptly be asked to pack your things and return to from where you came. I assure you that many will not pass on Monday. I say this not as a scare tactic, but as a simple fact based on decades of personal experience. Bear in mind, for those of you who will end up in this situation, that you are encouraged to enroll in next year’s class to try again.”

There was a fearful silence over the room, and William could detect this, but he’d grown used to such anxiety from his students. It was natural. He preferred the reapers who experienced these nerves as opposed to those who boasted too great a sense of confidence. Ironically, the arrogant students were often the ones that would fail in the final exam. 

“I implore all of you to study your notes over the weekend, for I will not be providing you with exactly what will be on your test. It could be any combination of what you have been learning over the past few months, so be prepared for anything. After all, your enemies do not come with cheat sheets.” A soft chuckle sounded from the students. “I will provide you with the instructions for when you arrive on Monday, though, so listen up. I shan’t be repeating myself.” Ronald had gone so far as to prepare a pen and paper just in case he would forget something.

“I will be passing out a schedule momentarily. On it, you will find a list of each of your names and the time you are to step into the testing area to take your exam. Should you be late by anything more than five minutes, you will fail instantly. This agenda is tight and ought not to be disrupted. No one of you is more important than anyone else in the class, and I consider tardiness to be a sign of disrespect toward each of your classmates. I hope that is perfectly clear to everyone.” He quietly walked along the rows of his pupils, then, to pass around the stacks of papers. Ronald stared at him as he approached, watching the way he moved and the expression on his face. Aside from the stiffness in his body, Mr. Spears really had given no indication as to the recent dealings he’d been subjected to. As William returned to the front of the room, though, no student was prepared for what he was about to say next. 

“Your exam rival will not be a machine, nor will it be an actual demon, even though such a possibility is being looked into for future classes. You will be battling against me.” William was not startled in the least by the wide eyes and dropped jaws he saw collectively sweep across the room; he was used to such a reaction. “If anyone has a question, feel free to approach me immediately after class. I have a meeting within the hour. In recap, look over your notes, find your allotted time on the schedule, and be prepared for anything. Class dismissed.” 

 

Ronald went back to the dorm that evening with ambivalent feelings. He was just as shocked as any other student when he heard the news, but somehow it concerned him in a different manner as well. What with how stiff Mr. Spears seemed, the blond wondered if he was up to taking on each of his students in a duel. The feat sounded impossible for any one man to accomplish in perfect health, let alone in such a stressed situation, but William hardly looked troubled by the prospect. Then a thought occurred to Ronald; Jones was a second-year student. 

“Jonesy, how come you never told me we would be fightin’ Spears?” he asked in a rather accusatory tone. The brunette sat at their tiny dining table and was reading over his notes diligently when he heard Ronald shout at him from across the room. 

“I didn’t think it was that surprisin’ my first year. I actually sorta expected it.” Ronald was confused by the confession, for he certainly didn’t feel the same way.   
“You must be the only one,” he responded with a knit brow. 

“Maybe,” Jones shrugged, then going back to his studying. 

“So what was it like?” Ronald asked suddenly, trying to imagine himself in the situation Mr. Spears. “Was he really good?” Jones sighed inwardly at the second interruption, but he set down his papers to look at the blond again. 

“Well of course he was good,” he snorted in reply. “He beat my arse like it was nothin’ to ‘im. That’s how I ended up failing the class last year, Ronnie, so I’m really nervous. Let me study, won’t ya?” 

“Sorry, Jones,” Ronald apologized, not having realized, but he felt a great deal of nerves as well. “I—I don’t know if I can face him like that, in that sorta situation.” Jones’ brow furrowed at that, and he fixed a puzzled gaze on Ronald. 

“Why not?” he asked in bafflement. “I know he’s intimidatin’, but he’s not a monster. He only wants the best reapers as his employees, so I understand. I wasn’t ready last year, I know that now.” Ronald squirmed from where he sat on his bed, his leg bouncing up and down as he readied himself to tell Jones what he didn’t think he was going to tell anybody. He felt as though he really needed to get it off of his chest, though, and who better than his best friend? 

“Jones, you can’t spread what I’m about to say around, okay? I swear to the gods I’ll castrate you in your sleep if you do, got me?” Jones, thoroughly intrigued by that point, set down his notes as if they were rubbish to listen to what the young blond had to say. 

“I won’t spread your secrets, Ron. I’m a wanker, yes, but not that much.” Ronald smiled at him after he spoke, though it disappeared not long after. He took a deep breath.

“I’m not into women,” he said rather quietly, though the brunette heard him loud and clear. 

“So—you’re a poof, then?” Jones questioned. 

“Yeah, I guess y’ could say that,” Ronald confirmed uncomfortably. “You don’t have any issues with that, do ya?” Jones looked somewhat offended at that, and he sat up straighter in his seat. 

“I’m a wanker, Ron, but not that much,” he repeated, just as before. “I don’t judge people on stuff like that. Truth be told, though, I didn’t suspect it out of you.” There were a few moments of silence that ensued after that, Ronald’s leg bouncing more and more quickly as time passed. He didn’t know if it was wise to divulge Jones in just who his crush really was, but he’d gone too far to turn back then. 

“Thanks, Jones. I really appreciate it.” Jones simply smiled at him as he spoke, and it was reassuring to the blond. “I—I fancy someone.” Jones’ grin broadened, and he turned his body in the chair to face Ronald full-on, his studying forgotten for the time being. Ronald wondered if he had caught on at all, though Jones gave no indication that he had. 

“Someone in our class?” Jones asked, still oblivious to what the blond thought was blatant. “Is it Allister? I noticed how close you two have gotten in the last few weeks.” Ronald blinked. Had he been that obvious about his interest in the dark-haired young man? 

“I did like ‘im, but—but he’s not interested in me. When we went to the pub a few weeks ago, all he did was stare at the ladies. I’m pretty sure he ended up goin’ home with one, but I wouldn’t know. I left early.” Ronald lowered his gaze into his lap for a moment, still a tad bitter at the memory, but it really wasn’t anyone’s fault. He couldn’t read Allister’s mind, and Allister had every right to be with whom he pleased.

“Aww I’m sorry, Ronnie,” Jones sighed with sympathy in his eyes, though Ronald batted a hand at him. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I really just wanted to shag Al, but he’s not my serious crush.” Ronald gulped, his leg bouncing so vigorously by then that the bed had started to bounce along with him. Jones noticed just how anxious he was, and he walked across the room to sit next to Ronald on the bed and sling an arm across his shoulders.   
“Calm down, Ronnie,” he said, using his arm to pull Ronald closer in a sort of brotherly embrace. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, but I won’t snap at you for likin’ someone. You should know me better than that.” Ronald thought himself to be utter fool suddenly for making Jones feel like he didn’t trust him. 

“Okay, if you really mean it.” He felt the arm around his shoulder, and he felt the encouraging gaze on him, but he was still unsure. Not necessarily of Jones, but of himself. He was getting the feeling that his affections amounted to nothing more than a whimsical fantasy, nothing that could ever be real. Even still, Jones had the right to know after all that, especially considering the study time the blond had already taken away from him. 

“I-I’ve got it bad for Mr. Spears,” he admitted. Neither of them spoke, but he could feel Jones’ arm tense around him. His friend was taken aback, but when he traced back their conversation to the point where they’d strayed into Ronald’s love life, it made perfect sense. Ronald let his eyes meet with his roommate’s then, hoping to find that same reassurance there as before, but he only saw shock. 

“You’re shittin’ me, Ron,” he said flatly, seemingly in disbelief. Ronald just shook his head, and the brunette’s arm slid from around his shoulder. The blond stared into his lap, inexplicably ashamed of himself. 

“No, I’ve liked him for months now, and I can’t get ‘im out of my head,” he murmured. “Just the way he works so hard for the benefit of everyone, even though y’ can tell he’s bloody exhausted sometimes. That, and he’s gorgeous—I mean, in a masculine sort of way. Those eyes…” He trailed off, thinking himself such a lovesick twat for confessing to Jones like that. The brunette remained quiet for a long while, trying to conjure up the right words to say to Ronald, yet it was proving to be a rather difficult endeavor.

“Ron,” he said finally, gripping his shoulder tighter, “you could do a helluva lot worse than Mr. Spears. He’s a good man.” That was all he could think to say at first, though even that much was deeply appreciated by the blond reaper. “I’ve heard from a couple of blokes that they think he might be into men, but I can’t be sure. Never heard of him bedding a woman anyway, so maybe that’s a little glimmer of hope for ya.” It was indeed a good sign, or so Ronald believe, but there again was that unrealistic flicker of hope he so despised. It was too risky, nothing concrete, and he hated the idea of pouring his heart and soul into a man who could reject him in a moment’s notice. 

“I’m just a little brat, though, compared to ‘im,” Ronald sighed, not giving a toss anymore as he rested his head on Jones’ shoulder. “He’s so wise and respected, and I’m just—me.” Jones was a little uncomfortable at the blond’s head on his shoulder, but he didn’t move away. 

“Don’t say that, Ronnie,” Jones chided. “I mean it when I say you’re a breath of fresh air. The way you stood up to Sam, the way you laugh, even just the way you smile is so damn charming that you stand out from the rest of us like a sore thumb. Spears hasn’t shown any interest in the rest o’ us borin’ blokes, so as far as I can see it, you have a better chance than anyone at makin’ a lasting impression on ‘im.” Ronald’s heart warmed as his friend spoke, though a nagging question popped into his head and wasn’t going to disappear until he asked it. 

“What about that redhead, Sutcliff?” he asked with a slight edge to his tone. “Doesn’t he stick out, too?” At that, Jones did pull away from Ronald, to look at him with a peculiar expression across his face. 

“I don’t think Mr. Sutcliff has a great chance at wooin’ Spears after this whole mess he’s puttin’ him through.” Ronald cocked his head. 

“Wot?” 

“You mean you haven’t heard?” Jones practically gasped at him, an excitement bubbling in his voice. “Sutcliff is a serial killer. He’s been sneakin’ away to the mortal world and killin’ humans that aren’t even on the ‘To-Die’ list! It’s been buzzing around dispatch for days now. I’m amazed you didn’t hear about it!” Ronald’s eyes went wide as he took in the news; he almost couldn’t believe it, but then, he wasn’t all too surprised either. “They caught him Monday evenin’, about to be killed by a demon with his own death scythe, but Mr. Spears saved his sorry arse and dragged him back to dispatch, I guess. Now he has to try and defend him in court because he’s one of his employees. It puts a big black mark on Spears’ flawless managerial record, so he’s none too pleased about it, I’m sure.” Ronald was at a loss for words, stunned that the man he’d seen those few weeks ago had such a violent streak in him. He seemed slightly aggressive, yes, but a killer? No way. Ronald would have never guessed. 

“That’s mad,” he breathed. “Are they gonna off ‘im?” Jones shrugged, not seeming to care all too much about the scarlet reaper’s fate. 

“As in kill him? Nah, I doubt it. He’s gonna be dealt a shit-ton of extra work, though, I imagine, not to mention a long period of probation.” The blond just shook his head, trying to think of what could possibly drive a reaper to that point of madness. On the same token, it angered him that the feminine man was the cause of William’s stress. 

“Geezus—I guess I don’t have much competition then, do I?” he jested, jabbing Jones’ side with his elbow, and the other student just grinned at him. 

“Guess not,” he replied simply. 

“You see why I’m crazy nervous for the exam now, right? I don’t wanna embarrass myself in front of him, most importantly.” It sounded superficial, but it was a genuine concern for the blond. 

“Just do your best,” Jones sighed, getting up again to return to the table and his notes. “If worse comes to worst, then you could always just give him a blowjob instead, right? Instant passing grade.” Ronald’s face flushed a deep red at the thought of doing so, but a good-natured laugh escaped his lips. Jones joined in, but his eyes were once again buried in his work, so the blond knew it was probably best to leave him be. He needed to study as well, after all. 

“Honestly, Ron,” Jones spoke up one last time. “I’m happy you like him. Take things slow and I bet you’ll have a better chance of him noticing your efforts.” Ronald silently took the advice as he fished his textbook out of his messenger bag and began reading through the necessary chapters. It was going to be a long, boring weekend for them both.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This is the chapter where my writing style really shows its age. I can't blame my younger self really, but also, the occurrences of this chapter became too engrained within the story that I couldn't really think of a way to re-write it without taking forever. Just be warned: I myself consider this a bit OOC, and I wouldn't blame anyone else for feeling so either. 
> 
> Yet, if you take a step back, I think it's some pretty fabulously kinky smut.   
> ;D

Sunday night, Ronald had grown so sick to his stomach with worry that he hardly slept, and he knew he would be cursing his foolishness the next morning. The blond was the type that needed a certain amount of sleep every evening in order to be able to function properly; if he didn’t, then he was completely useless the next day. Wouldn’t that be a cruel joke by fate? Exhaust him for the one day when physical and mental alertness mattered most. 

Yet, somehow, Ronald awakened immediately the next morning when his alarm began to sound; usually he brought his fist down on the snooze button once or twice every other morning. Though his eyelids felt heavy and his body screamed to return to the warmth of his bed, he forced himself up and to the restroom. He swung open the door without knocking and walked in on Jones relieving himself. 

“Oi, Ronnie!” the brunette shouted, fatigue blatant in his eyes as well. “For a brat whose last name is ‘Knox,’ y’ think you’d have learned to knock by now.” With a start, Ronald backed out of the room and closed the door again. He was too tired to feel embarrassed. He caught himself walking back to the bed, as if his legs had minds of their own. No, he knew if he was to fall back asleep, he’d wake up late for class and potentially miss his exam. There was no chance in heaven nor hell that he was willing to risk it and so he leaned up against the wall next to the kitchenette and merely closed his eyes for a few moments. 

When he opened them again, he moved toward his bag to begin gathering his notes and textbook and schedule to pack into it. He had found his set exam time to be at precisely eleven fifty in the morning, and he figured he ought to be about ten minutes early so as to assure that he wouldn’t be a moment late. He saw that the student scheduled just before him was for eleven forty, so the exam must not last much more or less than those ten minutes. He was also the last student to test before the lunch break. By the time he’d arrive in the training room with Mr. Spears, the professor would have already battled twenty-seven of his pupils. Surely the man would be a little tired and hungry by then, Ronald thought. Even Mr. Spears couldn’t be that immaculate, so perhaps that was an advantage to the blond. 

He snapped out of his daze to find that he was staring into a glass of lukewarm water that had been left out the previous night. Sighing, he rubbed at his eyes and stepped forward to gulp it down, not giving a damn whether it had been his or Jones’. He couldn’t even remember. It felt heavenly against his dry throat, and almost instantly he felt a touch more refreshed. 

Five minutes later or so, Jones emerged from the restroom looking sharp in his suit, and Ronald entered to begin the same process of “prettying” himself. His biggest vice was styling his hair, which he wanted to be perfect for his exam, for Mr. Spears. The rest took no time at all. When he had it swept to the side just the way he liked it, he felt like he was ready for the test, or at least more so than he had before. 

After that, then he and Jones went to the cafeteria together to find a sea of other anxious students already there. With breakfast trays brimming with plenty of carbs and meats, they sat down at a table of their usual mates. One little fellow named Timothy seemed like he was about to wet himself by how nervous he looked. “What’s the matter, Tim?” Jones asked, and a few other guys at the table looked to the brunette with concern in their eyes. 

“Tim’s first up on the list,” Allister said quietly, an arm slung around the little lad’s shoulder, just as he used to do with Ronald so often. Jones just shook his head; he couldn’t imagine the feeling of having to go first out of everybody; the pressure of having to retake his exam at all was enough to send a shudder along his spine.   
“You’re the lad who made it to Level 9 on our first day in the training hall, though, right?” Jones added, trying his best to give him an optimistic smile. “Hell, you must be good to have done that.” He didn’t know Timothy very well, and so he really didn’t know what else to tell him. Ronald just remained silent, in his daze like before, as he ate his food. He was oblivious to the conversation around him until he’d finished every last bite of food on his plate, which had been quite a lot. He could only imagine how awful it would be to have to take the exam right after breakfast. He was glad to be scheduled for later in the morning. 

A good majority of the next few hours were spent “playing” with the training robots set to their highest difficulty levels. Although Ronald had his rear end handed to him a few times in the beginning, after that he remained undefeated. It was reassuring, of course, but this did little to placate his nerves once he heard of reaper after reaper emerging from the exam room with downtrodden expressions, some even with tears in their eyes. A good deal of them weren’t able to pass, and that terrified Ronald. There they were, reapers who had been studying for months upon months, paying out the nose to attend such prestigious classes, and in the span of ten minutes, their fate had been decided. Unless of course they would choose to return the following year, then they would just be failures, and easily-replaced failures at that.

Jones’ exam was right at eleven o’ clock, and Ronald walked with him down the grand hallway. The walls were sterile white and the air smelled of cleaning solution; something about it was disturbingly calm. The blond placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder when he saw an undisguised fear in his eyes. “You’ve got this, Jonesy,” he encouraged. “You’ve studied so hard, that there’s no way you can fail now.” He didn’t know if he was helping at all, but at least his voice was breaking the dreadful silence in the massive hallway. 

“Thanks Ron,” the brunette replied, a slight quaver to his voice. When they reached the towering white door, they paused and looked at one another. This was it. Jones would go in there and either be another step closer to becoming a full-fledged reaper, just as he’d always dreamed, or he’d be in the exact same situation as he had the year before, except with much less of a financial cushion. This could very well be his last chance if he couldn’t afford to return, and Ronald hoped with every fiber of his being that the young man would pass. 

“You deserve this more than anyone else I know,” Ronald said sincerely, looking him straight in the eye. “Go kick his arse.” With that, he gave him a wink and a light shove toward the door. Jones seemed to relax a little at the prompt, and he smiled back before taking a deep breath and entering the room. Ronald tried to sneak a glance inside, but it closed before he was able. The curiosity nearly killing him, he stepped closer to press an ear to the door and try to listen in on their duel, but the room must have been soundproof because he couldn’t detect a thing. 

With a sigh, he turned and began the long walk back down the hallway; he had fifty minutes to gather his wits and finish readying himself for one of the biggest, most important exams of his life. He went straight back to the training room to try every move he knew on the automated foe, and every time he won. He couldn’t help but feel that fighting against William was going to be a great deal harder than the robot, but that wouldn’t be fair to his students would it? To prepare them only for so much and then take it a step further? Ronald wanted to doubt it, but he still had that sinking suspicion. 

He wanted to continue in his practicing, but he was startled to hear a familiar voice behind him. “Don’t tire yourself out, Ronnie,” Allister called out to him as he approached. “That won’t do you any good.” The blond whipped around, scythe still firmly clutched in his hand, and he gave a smile. 

“Hey Al,” he panted, “have you taken yours yet?” He shut down the machine and returned his scythe to its holster so that he could talk to the man he’d not really spoken to for the last few weeks. 

“Not yet. I’m at one thirty, so I have to be careful not to eat too much at lunch. Don’t wanna puke all over Spears. That probably wouldn’t go over too well.” Ronald allowed himself to laugh a little, stepping down from the platform of his station and onto the floor. 

“Yeah, I’m guessin’ not,” he replied, his eyes trailing over the taller student’s face. “You still with that pretty little thing you met at the pub? She was a cutie.” Allister furrowed his brow as if he didn’t remember at first, but then it came to him. 

“Ah, no,” he shrugged, seeming a little embarrassed by the question. “She was just a one night deal. Nothin’ serious.” He fixed Ronald with a playful grin after that. “You were a better kisser than she was anyway.” Ronald blinked at the memory, taken aback that Allister had brought it up, but he hardly missed a beat as he returned the smirk. 

“Ha, better believe it,” the blond chuckled, the pair then starting out of the training hall. “I’m up in about—geezus, only twenty minutes now.” He could feel his stomach churning at the thought, but he tried to squelch his fear with positive thoughts. 

“You’ll be fine, Ron,” Allister said, though Ronald wasn’t sure if he believed his tone or not. A thought suddenly struck him, and he broke into a gait. “Where’re you goin’?” the darker-haired young man asked in puzzlement. 

“I wanna see how Jones did,” he called over his shoulder, leaving Allister behind as he made a mad dash to gods-know-where. He checked the waiting area, where he should have been at that point, but there was no sign of him. He ran to the cafeteria, to the offices, and even to the managerial sect before he’d given up; he didn’t have time for this anymore. With a heavy heart and a ball of nerves in his chest, he meandered into the restroom one last time before his test was to begin. 

He made toward a urinal and had just unzipped his fly when a shred of light brown hair caught his eye. It was Jones. He sat only a few feet away from the long row of urinals on a small bench, his hands clasped limply in his lap and his eyes red and puffy as if he’d just been crying. A sinking fear came over Ronald as he dared to approach him. “Jones…I’m sorry.” The brunette looked up at his friend and gave him one of the biggest, most genuine smiles Ronald had seen in months. 

“I passed,” he rasped, tears welling up in his eyes again. Ronald’s eyes widened as Jones stood and embraced him tightly. After a moment of shock, he chuckled into his shoulder and hugged him back with just as much strength. 

“You did it?” he breathed with a broad smile of his own. “You bloody did it?” Jones released him after another second, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. 

“Yeah, Spears even said I was one of the best yet today.” He chuckled, but it came out in a rather shaky sob. “I’m sorry for bein’ such a twat about all this.” They both burst into more laughter, and Ronald rushed up to hug him once more; it was nearing his own exam though. 

“I’m so happy for you,” he said honestly. “I really, really am.” 

“I hope you have the same luck, Ronnie. I’d miss you.” Ronald hadn’t considered the fact that if he failed, then he would no longer be Jones’ roommate. He would be forced to move out. A shudder ran along his spine when he realized all he could potentially lose after the test, but he tried to push it to the back of his head again. He was thrilled that Jones had made it, and that gave the blond a little more confidence than he’d had before. Perhaps that was all he needed. 

“Yeah, me too,” he breathed. “I’d better get going.” Jones just smacked him good-naturedly on the shoulder and grinned at him. 

“Give ‘im hell,” he cheered as they walked out of the loo and parted ways. “I’ll see you back at the dorm afterwards for a celebratory party, yeah?” Ronald only grinned as he turned his back to him and stared toward that eerie hallway again. He felt at the holster to make sure he had his scythe, even though he knew it would be there. It comforted him to be sure. 

Eyes were on him as he started down the hall, and soon the clusters of students grew more and more sparse until he was walking alone toward the exam room. The only things he could hear were the clicking of his shoes echoing against the plain walls and the pounding of his heart in his ears. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and he could feel his hands trembling, though somehow his feet kept carrying him to that final destination. 

There it was. That damnable door. 

This was it. This was all he’d worked for over not only the last six months, but also the years upon years he’d spent in the academy to reach this point. It was one of the most important days of his life thus far, and he suddenly felt as though he had not studied nearly hard enough. If he failed, he knew his mother would welcome him home with open arms, but he didn’t want it. Not one bit. He loved his mother, yes, but it was time that she stopped worrying over him and taking care of him like he was still a child. He needed to prove to her that he had grown into a capable young man; he needed to prove it to himself. 

With a deep breath, he took hold of the massive door handle and pulled it open to reveal a room of dull gray. It was smaller than he’d expected, but there were platforms suspended in the air that he presumed he would have to navigate. This made the battle area quite a bit larger. One hand was on his scythe when he entered, just in case the exam began immediately, but when he saw Mr. Spears standing toward the center in a very neutral position, he calmed himself a bit. 

“Good morning, Mr. Knox,” the man greeted in a peculiar manner, as if they were not about to go head-to-head in a test of physical ability. The dispatch supervisor looked completely at ease, not disheveled at all despite having tested over two dozen students already that morning. Ronald approached him and extended a hand to politely shake his professor’s, who accepted the gesture. 

“Good morning, Mr. Spears,” Ronald replied with a slight bow of his head. He hated the shake in his voice, but it couldn’t be helped. 

“In the next ten minutes, it will be determined whether or not you are ready to take your reaping career to the next level. Should you pass, you will receive an official certificate marking this impressive achievement. If you fail, you will be asked to pack your things and leave the facility by next Monday. Do you have any questions before we begin?” Ronald trailed his eyes along the other man’s body, seemingly unable to meet his piercing eyes, but he shook his head. 

“No, sir,” he answered, trying very hard to focus on William’s every move. 

“Very well.” With that, the raven-haired man snapped his fingers and a large clock came to life on the wall. It sounded a loud chime that made Ronald jump in surprise. He looked up at it to find that it was set for ten minutes exactly; a countdown timer. Breathing heavily, he turned his gaze back to William, only to find that he’d disappeared. 

In panic, Ronald whipped around to find that the man had leapt onto one of the highest platforms in the room, and the blond simply stared at him fearfully. He had the vantage point, then, and Ronald would have to find a way to force him off of it. He easily readied his scythe, prepared for his instructor to summon his at any moment. Even as Ronald began scaling the platforms to greet him, though, he never did. Was he simply going to fight without it? In awe at his confidence, but not willing to underestimate his abilities, Ronald swung his scythe in a wide arc to meet with the other man, who easily dodged the attack and leapt to another platform.   
He moved with such effortless grace that Ronald seemed a bumbling fool in comparison, but he wasn’t about to let him escape so quickly. He gave chase and hopped onto the same platform, shocked when William rushed toward him and swept his leg so that it knocked Ronald’s feet from under him. With a grunt, the blond fell to the floor, right on his tailbone. He gasped for breath after the fall, though he hadn’t a moment to think as William moved to pin his arms to the cold metal of the platform. He reached to take hold of the blonde’s scythe, but Ronald delivered a swift blow to his abdomen with one knee. 

He could hear William’s breath escape as he struck him, and in that split second his grip faltered, Ronald shoved him away and scrambled to his feet. He was rattled after the experience, and he felt like his heart had jumped into his throat, yet he felt hopeful when he looked at the timer and found that he only had seven minutes left to fend off Mr. Spears. Only seven minutes until he passed. Speedily, he jumped to a lower level and was jarred when he saw the other reaper swing down from the higher platform to lunge toward Ronald. The blond barely avoided the kick aimed for his head, but he had, and now he had a chance to counter him. 

With a shout, he swung his scythe right at Mr. Spears’ throat, but the man was too quick. He swiftly caught Ronald’s scythe mid-swing and spun so that he held the blond flush against his front, the scythe now positioned against his student’s neck. Ronald, still gripping his scythe though feeling panicked again, didn’t know what to do as he tried to force the blade of his scythe farther from his neck. William was simply too strong, though, and the blond knew he couldn’t continue in that position for much longer. He could feel himself tiring, and just when he thought he was about to fail, a stroke of brilliance came to him. 

As quickly as his body would allow him, he released his scythe and slid down the front of Mr. Spears’ body to free himself from his professor’s hold. In a flash, he dashed away from William to face him full-on once more. There was only one issue: he’d lost possession of his death scythe. Anyone else may have thrown up their hands in defeat then and there, but Ronald was just stubborn enough to try and get it back and save his grade. William was now on offense as he raced toward the blond with the blade menacingly outstretched, and Ronald had every intention to sidestep and reach for his scythe to reclaim it. He wasn’t expecting the slight flick of Mr. Spears’ wrist, though, and in an instant, he was blinded. 

The only thing he could see was the blurry shape of his glasses being knocked from his face with deadly accuracy and sent flying across the room. Whimpering quietly to himself, he tried desperately to see where Mr. Spears had moved to, but it wasn’t long after that he felt the man’s arms slam into his shoulders and press him into the nearest wall with painful force. 

Ronald’s head cracked against the concrete, a sharp ringing filling his ears not long after, and he gasped as he looked into the emotionless eyes of William, whose face was mere inches from his own. Grimacing in discomfort, the blond tried the only thing he knew to do at that point, which was to raise his knee in hopes of it connecting with the taller reaper’s groin. He’d nearly executed it, when William took a step backwards, his hands never leaving Ronald’s shoulders though. As soon as Ronald’s foot hit the ground again, the raven-haired reaper pressed his knees between the blonde’s legs and spread them far apart so that it was impossible for his student to move at all. Ronald could feel his face heating at the awkward position, but this was no time to be fantasizing about how this situation could have easily been translated into something other than a terrifying exam. 

He was trapped. He had been completely immobilized, his scythe’s blade was hanging right over his head in William’s hand, and he didn’t know what he could possibly do. This was it; he was going to fail. And with only three minutes left on the clock. The only possible way he could free himself by then was to make some sort of distraction, anything that had the slim chance of putting William off his guard. He thought to shout something, but when he looked into those dead eyes, he doubted that anything so trivial could phase him. Ronald heaved a nervous sigh as his mind raced to find a solution. 

If anything, he could admire the fact that he was so near to William. It was foolish of him to let his mind stray to such romantic whimsies, but he couldn’t help himself. That dark hair, those thin lips, that strong jawline, that narrow nose, that alabaster skin, those strong hands, and his clean smell. Everything about him was perfect, and Ronald felt his lust for the man bubble over in an instant. 

He leaned his head forward only slightly to press a kiss to his professor’s cool lips, not giving a damn at that point. He was going to make his failure worthwhile. 

He’d closed his eyes at first, but when he withdrew to find that William’s eyes had widened in obvious shock, it was as if a light bulb had gone off in the blonde’s head. He kissed him more passionately, spinning him around to press him into the wall, his knees moving between his long legs and making it so that he couldn’t move; William was much too startled to do a thing. Smirking against the other man’s lips, Ronald reached up and took hold of the scythe since Mr. Spears’ grip on the tool had significantly loosened. 

The blond could have easily continued the battle as though nothing had happened, but he had taken advantage of William in a way that was unforgiveable, and so he chose against it. Instead, he flung his death scythe across the large room so that it was out of both of their reach, and he deepened the kiss even further. He was amazed that the taller man hadn’t shoved him away or said a thing about it, but he did seem genuinely shaken by the abrupt advance. 

William couldn’t believe what was happening. He’d let himself become frazzled by something as petty as a kiss? Surely, he hadn’t been aware of Ronald’s now blatant desire for him, but how could he know it wasn’t merely a bizarre tactic he’d been waiting to use on him? Regardless, William’s long-denied need for intimacy inundated his body, and he could feel himself melting under the simple touches along his arms and chest as Ronald slackened his firm hold on his shoulders and began letting his hands wander. 

“Sir,” Ronald murmured into their kissing, “I need you. I have for months now.” It was a rushed explanation, and not nearly as romantic and well-thought-out as the blond wanted it to be, but he felt like he had to explain himself before it was too late. He pulled away for a moment, his hands placed firmly at William’s chest. He searched his cold eyes for any shred of reciprocated emotion, but all he saw was still that immense surprise. Ronald grit his teeth as he gripped at the man’s blazer, feeling like he was on the verge of tears; he wanted him to say something, anything at all. He needed to know how he felt about all of this. 

William’s mouth was slack, but no words formed at his lips. Frustrated and afraid, Ronald crushed their mouths together once again, this time dipping his tongue past the older reaper’s lips. He kissed him so fiercely that he knew his lips would be swollen later, but he didn’t care. He wanted to pour every ounce of passion he felt toward the man into that kiss, and he wasn’t going to stop until he evoked some sort of reaction. He ran his hands all along the taller man’s arms and chest, then bravely wandering lower onto his hips. “Please, sir, take me,” he insisted, hating how pathetic his voice sounded but yearning for any response he may receive.

“Ronald Knox…” William muttered, his dark eyebrows drawing together tightly. He looked absolutely furious, and the blonde’s heart was nearly beating out of his chest when that incredulous glare was turned upon him. In haste, Ronald stooped to his knees, his hands trailing down the man’s chest, hips, and thighs as he did so. And he began to undo his belt. 

William knew he should have stopped the boy; he was really making a grand fool of himself. Nothing about their situation was appropriate for a student and teacher, and this was going to complicate things beyond belief. Yet, he could have sworn his body was frozen in place. He hadn’t been pleasured in weeks, months even. He had always been stuck in the office, striving to climb higher and higher until he’d reached a managerial position. He’d achieved that, and that had been his life for the past seven decades. Eat, breathe, sleep, paperwork. And so, if this little blond charmer wanted so badly to taste him, then William wasn’t going to complain. He needed a release. 

Ronald held his breath when William let him remove his belt, and he reached, with trembling hands, for his trousers’ button. It almost felt surreal, but he knew it was anything but a dream. Just what the hell did he think he was doing? Tearing off his professor’s pants in hopes that he’d return his affections? Right then, all he was doing was humiliating himself. Mr. Spears likely thought that he was simply kissing up so that he wouldn’t fail him, but he certainly wasn’t making any move to stop him. So Ronald continued. 

Unceremoniously, he tugged the other reaper’s pants down to his knees, revealing his white undergarments and pale thighs. His lower lip quivered as he hooked his forefingers at the hem of Mr. Spears’ underwear and began to lower them. This was the point of no return. After this, their relationship would never be the same, and Ronald doubted that such an awkward encounter could even ever become true love. He couldn’t stop, though, for that would have been even worse. The blond wanted this man more than anyone else he’d ever met, and he’d dreamt about this body for so many months. In one quick movement, he yanked the undergarments down, and Ronald’s eyes widened. Without his glasses, he knew he couldn’t see nearly as well, but he thanked the gods for his nearsightedness. William was of average size, by his estimation, but it was so much more to him than just another cock. 

This was William T. Spears’ most personal flesh. 

Just then, the timer sounded. The exam had ended. But Ronald could hardly hear it over the rushing of blood in his ears. William didn’t seem to pay it any mind either, worrying for a moment that his next student could walk in on them before he remembered that it was the lunch hour. His piercing eyes fixed on the clock for a heartbeat, until they flickered back to meet with Ronald, who just stared up at him with eyes wide with concern. He couldn’t see the confusion in William’s eyes from where he knelt, only a blob of pale skin and dark hair. His glasses were still halfway across the room, after all. 

William’s legs twitched as if he wanted to shy away from Ronald’s attentions, but just before he could do such a thing, he felt a heavenly heat envelop him. How long had it been since he’d been treated like this? Too long. Much too long. He huffed in mild frustration, leaning his head backwards against the hard wall and closing his eyes. The boy’s tongue was surprisingly talented, and the way he would tighten his lips around the tip of his length sent waves of pleasure along William’s spine. 

When he could feel the taller reaper’s arousal hardening, Ronald was encouraged to work all the more passionately, bobbing his head with such a great care and enthusiasm and it couldn’t have been translated into a trivial lust in any language. This was a little red flag in the back of William’s mind, a flag that warned him that he oughtn’t to tamper with the young reaper’s feelings, and he hated that he couldn’t pull away from him to put an end to it all. 

He thrust slightly into Ronald’s mouth, the blond groaning as he did so. Grabbing a handful of that golden hair, he dragged its owner closer to himself. Ronald placed his hands on William’s hips to steady himself, and he grazed his teeth ever so slightly against the other reaper’s length that it nearly drove him mad with desire. It felt much too good, and William could feel his climax nearing.

Ronald savored each hushed grunt, those hands weaved in his hair, the way his chest rose and fell rather quickly. It was the first time he’d seen Mr. Spears as being a more normal man than a seemingly untouchable pinnacle of discipline and stoicism. He wanted to see more of him this way. He wanted to taste him truly. 

“Knox…” William murmured through clenched teeth, his fingers lacing themselves more tightly into those golden blond and black tresses. He thrust more crassly into that tempting heat, losing every semblance to a gentleman then; he would take what he wanted without apology. Ronald tried to comply with the demanding movements, wanting with every fiber of his being to please Mr. Spears, but he feared what would happen once the clouded judgment of lust cleared. They would be left in bitter reality again, and it promised not to be forgiving.

Rather cleverly, Ronald released William’s member and pinched the base of it to prevent the other man from reaching his orgasm. The raven-haired reaper’s eyes shot open at that, and he stared down at his student in slight confusion. “Whatever are you doing?” he asked with irritation obvious in his tone. 

“Did I pass the exam?” Ronald asked abruptly, and Mr. Spears’ eyes widened. He was being horridly cruel, but he needed to know. Conflict flooded William’s eyes; he was letting his emotions seep into his professional judgment. There wasn’t supposed to be room for emotion in a job. 

“I—you,” William sputtered uncharacteristically, the conflict replaced with venom in his acid green eyes. “You little wretch…” Had he been playing him the whole time? Had he misread the raw emotion he’d seen in the boy’s eyes and in his movements? The taller man’s heart clenched at what he saw as betrayal, disbelieving that he’d been deceived by one of his own pupils. 

Ronald could feel an uncomfortable lump in his throat when he saw the anger in William’s expression. He knew he’d royally fucked up. This was his only opportunity, though, for after this, he doubted there was a chance in hell that Mr. Spears would even accept him back into the program the next year if he failed. He couldn’t let that happen. 

“Please, sir,” he said more softly, running his tongue slowly along the length of William’s cock. 

“How dare you,” William breathed, ire coursing through his blood. “Do you take me for a fool, Ronald Knox? A gullible fool?” Ronald rose to his feet defiantly all of a sudden, and he stood mere inches away from William’s face, just as before. 

“I didn’t do a bloody thing wrong,” he challenged, even though it may have been a stretch of the truth. “I only had three minutes left! I could have passed, and you know it.” He hoped William wouldn’t point out the holes in his reasoning, but much to his amazement, the man’s glower softened if but a touch. Honestly, William knew he’d been doing quite well, and he could see the young man easily passing the rest of his class and moving on to become a true credit to London’s dispatch division. Even still, having him stay would mean having to face the blond every day, face the ugly fact that he’d made a mistake; the flawless William T. Spears had made a mistake. He’d let his need possess his body, and it still was doing so. He still felt Ronald’s hand around his cock, and he longed for the sweet release of a climax. 

“You pass,” William hissed under his breath, his glare returning fully as he stared into Ronald’s eyes. The blond remained completely still for a moment until a wide grin split his features and he gave William’s member a languorous stroke. Almost immediately, his orgasm hit him, and his essence spurted along Ronald’s hand and forearm. It was heavenly, but not nearly enough to make up for such lechery. 

The blond instantly dropped to his knees to pointedly clean him with that ever-talented tongue; he felt an unreasonable amount of guilt suddenly crushing upon him. William sighed at the treatment, his brow still furrowed deeply, yet when Ronald rose to his feet again, he refused to offer any sort of thanks. 

“Mr. Spears,” Ronald began tentatively, daring to place his hands on the other man’s hips, “I really do fancy you.” He leaned forward to place a gentle kiss to his pale cheek, then nuzzling it. “When I asked you out to have coffee, I always sorta intended for it to be like a date. I don’t expect y’ to forgive me right now, but please know that I’d do anything for you.” William remained utterly still as the boy touched him, not wanting to hear another word from his mouth. When he moved to try and kiss the dark-haired reaper on his lips, William lashed out and took a firm hold of his throat. 

“If you breathe a word of what happened here today to anyone, you will have no future in dispatch, and I will see to that personally.” His growl was so intense that the hairs on the back of Ronald’s neck stood straight on end, and the younger reaper backed away a bit. “Now get out of my sight.” With an unfathomable sadness in his eyes, Ronald turned and slowly leaped down each platform until he reached the floor. Feeling pathetic, he scooped up his glasses and scythe before trudging out the door and not daring to look back at the man he’d so desperately longed for. And now Mr. Spears hated him beyond belief. The fragile bond they’d reestablished had been shattered, and Ronald didn’t think he could ever build it back up again. It was going to be a long and shitty night after that. With the most despondent sigh he’d ever breathed, he exited the room, the taste of William still painfully present on his lips. 

Mr. Spears was then left alone in the grand room, the echoes of the shutting door resonating for a few moments against the tall ceiling. He was left in silence. He stared blankly at the wall on the opposite end of the room, feeling more than a touch of regret as well as peculiarly violated. He didn’t have much time to waste on his feelings, however, as the next exam was to begin in less than half an hour. As he reassembled his uniform, a strange sensation stirred within him. This would prove to be more than troublesome, eventually, but he would keep it shoved to the back of his mind for as long as he could.


	9. Chapter 9

Ronald didn’t return to the dorm immediately as Jones had wanted him to. Instead, he shot straight out of the building and walked out of the Association’s grounds toward the heart of reaper London. It felt good to simply walk aimlessly for a while, though he did ultimately end up in a pub, just as he typically did when he was feeling down. He ordered vodka the moment he sat at the bar, not waiting to start in to the hard liquor. 

He needed to wash the memory out of his mouth. He’d loved being able to experience William in such a way, yes, but after what it had caused, he couldn’t stand to think about it any longer. All he’d really wanted to do was to relieve a little stress for him, after what he had heard about that redhead, Sutcliff, as well various others bothers that were floating around and landing themselves on William’s desk. Ronald feared that he’d only given his professor more to think about, though, more headache fodder. 

That evening, he returned to the dorm in a drunken mess. When he swung open the door, Jones looked up from the book he’d been reading and jumped to his feet. “Ron, where the hell have you been?” he asked, taken aback when he saw the state his friend was in. “Are you okay? Did you pass?” Ronald hardly gave him a glance as he walked past him and collapsed heavily onto his bed. 

“Yeah,” he muttered into his pillow, and he heard Jones hoot in cheer. 

“That’s great, Ronnie! I’ll admit I was a little worried about you. I went to look at the results at the end of the day, but not all of them were posted. I guess there are only thirty-two of us left now.” Ronald was a little surprised to hear it. Two hundred students had begun the program, and now so few remained. He was one of them. 

“What about Al?” he asked in a slurred voice. “Thomas? Jonathan?” Jones casually meandered over to the bed and sat down next to where Ronald was lying. 

“Thomas passed, and so did that little twat Anthony from what I heard, but Allister and Jon didn’t I guess.” At that, Ronald lifted his head from the pillow and looked at Jones with unfocused eyes. 

“Al didn’t make it?” he asked with a tinge of sadness in his voice. That—That’s a bloody shame.” He grumbled at how depressing the day had become; he’d just seen Allister hours ago, smiling and feeling prepared for his exam. Now he was an outcast. 

Ronald rolled over in his bed and huffed, tugging the sheets up snug to his chin. At least the day couldn’t get much worse than it already had been. He wondered if he was being overdramatic about the whole situation, though. He had gotten to see William’s dick, and it wasn’t as though he would never see Allister again. Such thoughts were enough to send him into an uneasy sleep, and Jones knew better than to try and rouse him again in his drunken state. He would simply have to be patient and wait to have a celebration with his roommate. 

 

Ronald awakened the next day feeling terribly hung over, the harsh light of the sun through their dorm window sending pulses of pain through his head. When he recalled the day before, it only hurt worse, and soon it was a full-flown headache. He heaved a grand groan as he rolled over onto his back and stared at the bottom of the upper bunk. When he heard soft clattering from across the room, his eyes flickered to find Jones standing in the kitchenette. He was cooking something, and it didn’t smell half bad. “Jonesy?” Ronald rasped, shakily propping himself up on one elbow. The heavier-set reaper turned toward him with a crooked smile. 

“Mornin’, Ron,” he greeted. “I’m making some eggs if y’ want. I hope you don’t mind. I know you bought ‘em.” The blond really didn’t care; he bought most of the food they kept around, but it was his mother’s money anyway. She insisted on paying for his meals above all else, so Ronald wasn’t going to try and argue with her. She was, after all, where he’d gotten his stubbornness from. 

“Nah, sounds good,” he mumbled incoherently, collapsing so that his face landed in his pillow. He dozed off again until he felt a hand shaking his shoulder. 

“Eat,” Jones mumbled as he dug into his own eggs. Ronald slowly raised himself to sit upright, placing a hand to his head as he grabbed the plate with the other. 

“Thanks,” Ronald mumbled as he took up the fork and began eating. His eyes drowsily flickered toward his clock, startled to see that they were over an hour late for class. “Wha—Jones, we’re bloody late!” He threw down his plate and leapt up to stumble across the room in his boxers to find a clean pair of trousers to slip on. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Ronnie,” Jones shouted after him. “Calm down. We ‘ave today off.” Ronald froze and looked over his shoulder at the brunette, who was only grinning widely at him. “It’s a tradition o’ sorts. The day after the exam, every student gets a day off to celebrate and rest.” The blond snorted, balling up the trousers he’d just grabbed and throwing them at his roommate’s head. 

“Y’ coulda told me that earlier, you wanker,” Ronald sighed as he made his way back toward the bed and flopped down onto it. “Gave me a fuckin’ heart attack.” A minute later or so, he sat upright again to continue eating his eggs. Thankfully, his headache had subsided a bit. 

“So, you never told me about your exam,” Jones pried as he finished off his breakfast. “How did it go? You sucked his cock like I said, right? So you shoulda gotten a perfect grade.” Ronald’s muscles tensed and he shot a nervous glance at Jones, wondering just how he could have possibly known that. Had he been mumbling secrets in his drunken state of sleep? It took him a few painful heartbeats to remember how they had been joking about the exact same thing only a matter of minutes before he actually did so during his test. It was all frightfully ironic, and Ronald released a terse laugh. 

“Yup, went smooth as silk,” he replied somewhat vaguely, feeling sick to his stomach for a few moments after. He set his eggs down and curled back up in the bed. “He said I was the best in the class and sent me on my way.” 

“Really? That’s great, Ron,” Jones inquired, taking up both of their plates and setting them in the sink. 

“Nah, I’m jokin’. He didn’t say much of anything once we were done. It was all pretty straightforward.” It felt so strange to the blond to be speaking so nonchalantly over the subject; it tasted odd on his tongue, or perhaps that was just the eggs that Jones had made. “Geezus Jonesy, what did y’ put in those eggs? My tongue is burnin’ a little.” Jones just grinned at him from the kitchen, his round face boasting a jolly expression. 

“Just a splash o’ hot sauce. My favorite.” Ronald just shook his head and chuckled under his breath. He was honestly quite relieved that he wouldn’t have to see William that day; he didn’t know how to act around him anymore. He doubted that he could try to act familiar with him, then, because in reality, he hardly knew a thing about the man still. The only tidbit he may have actually learned was that the austere reaper was into men, but even that could still be up in the air. On the same token, though, it wouldn’t do to act as if nothing had happened between them. That was simply lying, and reinforcing the false insinuations that Ronald had only pleasured him to prompt a good grade out of him. Something would have to change, and he had no idea what to do, or who he could possibly go to for advice. 

This was a personal issue, and he’d likely have to find the solution all on his own. 

The whole mess made his head throb with the threat of another headache, but he altered his train of thought to a more positive note. He’d passed the exam, if but a bit shadily, and he was all the closer to becoming a true reaper of London’s dispatch. He’d have to call his mother that day and let her in on the good news; she was sure to be delighted. 

First, however, he was going to sleep in for a good few hours longer. 

The rest of that day was spent lazing about their dorm, talking and indulging in whatever food they were able had been able to fit into their small refrigerator. Ronald made a mental note to pick up some groceries that week; Jones had more than a healthy appetite, and it wreaked havoc on their food supply. They turned in at about ten that evening, opting out of going to a party held in honor of those who’d passed the exam. Ronald didn’t feel like getting wasted two nights in a row, and Jones was content to go right to sleep anyway. 

 

Ronald awakened the next day to the blaring chime of his alarm clock, and he slammed his fist down on it with a grunt. He shivered when he realized just how cold it was in the room, and with a scowl, he sat up to find that the curtains were fluttering in the breeze. “Jones, you left the bloody window open last night?” he huffed groggily at his dozing roommate. Rolling his eyes, Ronald stumbled out of the bed and meandered toward the window to slam it shut. He couldn’t help but notice the small white flakes that were twinkling in the street lights, though. It had begun snowing. 

He always loved the holiday season, and while reapers didn’t celebrate Christmas, a manmade merriment, they enjoyed a time of family and friendship, which similar to mortal alternative. Quite bluntly, it was called Gracious Month, and while the death rate didn’t slow for the dispatch reapers to be able to take a full-on vacation, there were always plenty of festive events that allowed them to unwind a bit after a long, and often stressful year. Ronald gave a little smile at the sight. He always loved the holidays. 

Amidst all of the work of his classes, he hadn’t even noticed that Gracious Month was mere weeks away already. A thought popped into his head that he would have to do something especially nice for Mr. Spears when the Day of Thankfulness came around. It was the pinnacle of the holiday month, when each reaper was to provide those who meant most to them with a gift or favor representing their appreciation. Ronald knew it was the perfect opportunity to try and make up with his instructor. Even still, he wasn’t going to wait an entire month to bring up the subject again. 

Brushing his golden bangs away from his eyes, he sat at his desk and took out a piece of his finest parchment, which had his name in gold and silver lettering at the top embossed into it. With a deep breath, he began to write in his nicest handwriting:

Mr. Spears,  
I wanted to thank you sincerely for allowing me to continue with my studies. I hope I will be able to prove myself as a diligent worker to you as a student, for now, and eventually, an employee of London’s dispatch. Your devotion to the Association is a true inspiration to me, and I admire you for not only your accomplishments, but with what care you groom your pupils for the next stages in life.

As for what happened the other day, I’m guessing it’s probably the last thing you want to talk about, but we can’t just ignore it like nothing happened. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to go and blab to everyone about it, or anyone at all for that matter, but I would appreciate the opportunity to talk to you about it sometime. The most important thing I want you to understand is that I wasn’t just using you. I fancy you something fierce, and I really didn’t know how to approach you about it. Obviously, that wasn’t the right way. I hope you’ll give me a chance to explain myself over coffee sometime. Yeah, that offer still stands, if you’re willing. 

Sincerely,   
Your Not-So-Secret Admirer, Ron Knox

He looked over his letter with critical eyes, making sure each of his ‘I’s’ were dotted, and all of his ‘T’s’ were crossed, every comma was in its proper place and no dumb spelling mistakes were made. It had looked so good when he was writing it, but it didn’t come out on paper exactly as he hoped it would. He still sounded like an immature boy in his wording, but at least he’d gotten the point across. Determinedly, he sealed message in a gold envelope laced in white and tucked it away in his bag to give to Mr. Spears at the beginning of class. 

He and Jones headed down to the cafeteria for breakfast after they showered and dressed for the day. While there were some jovial smiles and laughs and pats on the backs for a job well done, there were plenty of somber faces seated around them who hadn’t passed the exam. Ronald had almost let it slip his mind that many students would still be hanging around while they packed their things and prepared to move out of the dispatch dorms. It was awkward, to say in the least, but it was inevitable. 

He was going to have a seat by Jones and a few of the other guys who had passed, but he inwardly cursed himself when he heard a familiar voice call out to him. “Ron, come over and sit by us!” He turned around to see Allister waving at him, as well as a group of other fellows who hadn’t passed. There were already rifts and resentment growing between those who had passed and those who had failed. That was clear enough by the rolling of the eyes he saw as he approached the table, as well as the murmuring he could hear but not quite decipher. 

Despite all that, Ronald put on his best smile and went to sit right next to Allister. “Hey, Al,” he greeted casually, setting down his tray and ignoring the dirty looks he was getting from everyone else. “I can’t believe y’ didn’t make it! Must’ve had too much for lunch, like y’ thought. Rotten luck.” He jabbed the taller lad in his ribs, earning a soft chuckle and a rather sad smile. 

“Yeah, let’s blame it on that,” he said, his handsome eyes flickering downward with a regretful glint in them. “I wasn’t prepared enough, I get that. Spears kicked my arse within five minutes, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I’m comin’ back next year, though, you can bet on that.” Ronald admired the fact that he wasn’t too embarrassed to say that he’d failed, and that he wasn’t ready, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he ought to have been in the very same situation. He tried not to think about it. 

“Good for you, though, Ronnie,” Allister said, returning the jab to the ribs. “All that practicin’ must’ve paid off. I honestly wasn’t sure if you had it in y’.” Ronald just grinned and stared down at his food, wanting to avoid the eye rolls he was certain were floating around the table. 

“It was a fluke,” Ronald insisted, starting to feel uncomfortable at the topic. “Dumb luck, just like everything else in my life.” The taller young reaper just shook his head like he didn’t believe a word of it. 

“Must be nice,” one lad spat from across the table, “havin’ yer mum pay for every penny o’ yer schooling. You can piss it away pound by pound without really havin’ to try. You’re too damn nonchalant, Knox, and I can’t stand it.” Instantly Ronald bristled, fixing the lad with an aggressive look in his eyes. 

“What d’ you know about me?” he challenged, though his tone was obviously defensive. He opened his mouth to lash out more with that quick little tongue of his, but no words came to him. He had nothing to defend himself with. 

It was true. 

Ronald, cheeks red and eyebrows scrunched together, was content to flash the lad his middle finger before lifting his tray and starting toward the other table where Jones was sitting. He could hear the other guys at the table mocking him behind his back. “Aww no, Putney, y’ got Knox’s knickers in a twist.” They would laugh snidely. “It must be that time o’ the month.” Another raucous laughter would meet Ronald’s ears. “He’s runnin’ to his mummy to tattle on us!” The blond was sorely tempted to go back and give them a piece of his mind, or rather, a face-full of his fist, but he knew that would cause more harm than it was worth. Thankfully, that wild and impetuous streak in him had somewhat settled over the last few years, otherwise he would have tried to go back and take on all of those bitter blokes. That could have only ended one way: Ronald would return home that night with a black eye and a million other bruises dotting his body. 

Instead, he would tolerate the jabs and sneers as he walked away. He was almost to the other table when he felt a hand firmly grab his arm. He whipped around brusquely, thinking that it might be one of the bullies come to wail on him, but it was only Allister, whose angular face was riddled with concern. 

“Sorry about that, Ronnie,” he said in a hushed tone. “Those guys are just sore in the arse. Hell, I’m jealous of y’ for passing, but I don’t blame y’ for my own failure.” Ronald’s tensed shoulders relaxed, and he just shrugged at him. 

“I’m not joking when I say that I just barely passed. I probably shouldn’t have, honestly.” 

“Don’t say that,” Allister said more sternly as they drew nearer to the other table. “You passed, so you must be ready to move on. You used t’ be so confidence in yourself—what happened?” They sat down at the end of the table, far away from the other men. Ronald was caught off guard by the question, and he played around with the sausage on his tray for a moment while he thought about the answer. 

“I dunno,” he said truthfully. “Maybe I had been nonchalant before, just like they said, and now I’m just startin’ to realize that I need to start growin’ up, become a man.” It was a scary thought, really; all Ronald had ever known was to party and sleep, and now he was facing the beginning of the rest of his immortal life. The rest of eternity. He was surprised to hear the taller trainee chuckle after he spoke, and he looked up at him in puzzlement. 

“Damn, Ronnie,” Allister sniffed, “you’re takin’ this all too seriously. Just because you’re getting’ a real job doesn’t mean you have to change everything about yourself. We’re both still young, so why can’t we act like it? Far as I see it, as long as we’re smart enough to separate work from pleasure, we can still do whatever the hell we want.” Allister flashed Ronald that charming grin, and Ronald felt a smile forming on his own lips.

“Yeah, you’re right,” the blond mumbled with a smirk. “Gods, Al, you’re takin’ this all so well I wouldna guessed you didn’t pass. I’m gonna miss you around here.” Allister just smiled at him and finished his food. 

“Thanks, Ron,” he replied in a quieter voice. “You’ve been such a good friend to me, even though I’ve really only gotten t’ know you the past few months. Don’t think, though, that just because they’re bootin’ me out of this place for a few months I won’t be comin’ around to bug you now and again.” Ronald believed him, every word, and he groaned at the thought of beginning the next unit in class; it was to prepare them for their final exam as students. They were going to have to reap an actual mortal’s soul.

“This week is gonna be hell,” he complained, fixing Allister with a pout. “We’re starting into the real heavy stuff today.” The darker-haired reaper smirked at him. 

“Count your blessings, Ronnie-boy,” he jeered. “All I get to do today is slack off. I’m gonna be bored stiff for the next six months ‘til I can come back to this place.” He watched Ronald carefully, the way his lithe body seemed so very tense, and a dirty grin graced his lips. “You look like if I touch y’, you’re going t’ shatter like glass. Calm down.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Ronald muttered, still playing with his food and not bothering to eat any of it. “I shouldn’t be complainin’ to you. Sorta rude of me…” He reached up to toy with an unruly strand of blond hair that was hanging over his eyes. 

“I think you need a good shagging,” Allister snorted, a playful sort of glint in his green eyes. Ronald raised his eyebrows at him for a moment, though he laughed light-heartedly. 

“Y’ think,” he said, then winking at his friend. “You interested, hot stuff?” Of course it was in jest, and Ronald all but expected Allister to lower his voice and say what he did next. 

“Name a time and place.” 

His eyebrows lowered again and his mouth went slightly slack; he had to be pulling his leg, didn’t he? “You—You’re having me on.” Allister’s grin only grew wider, and he rose from his seat with his tray to go and dump it. As he walked behind Ronald, he bent to whisper in his ear and press something into his hand. Ronald unfolded a little piece of paper to find a cell phone number written on it. 

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that kiss at the pub,” he murmured, sending shivers down Ronald’s spine. “I want to try something different, and I was hopin’ you could help me. Call me if you ever have the fancy.” With that, the attractive reaper took care of his tray and walked out of the cafeteria, leaving the blond in stunned silence. Ronald could only stare at his back as he left, then flickering his eyes to gaze at the little piece of paper he’d been given. It was almost as if he’d been planning it. 

Startled and bubbling with thrill, Ronald tucked the scrap of paper into his breast pocket and began hastily shoving some food in his mouth; it was almost time for class, after all. He could hardly focus as he made his way down the hall and into the classroom, right past all of his classmates, and Mr. Spears, without so much as a hello. 

There were significantly less seats taken up now, only a few dozen being filled, though Ronald opted to sit at the very back of the room regardless. The only thoughts that filled his head were of Allister, and all of the wonderfully dirty rolling in the hay he could imagine them partaking in. He really did need a good shagging, and that would be the perfect thing to take his mind off of all the stress he was about to encounter. Allister being so undeniably handsome was just a lovely little added bonus.   
He had, however, forgotten about the letter he’d intended to give to Mr. Spears. It remained inside his messenger bag all day, until it would sink to the bottom, crumpled and overlooked.

Ronald had his chin resting in the palm of one hand when he heard that deep voice, and he instantly snapped from his daydreaming. “Are you deaf, Knox?” Mr. Spears inquired, not a shred of emotion present on his face as he fixed his eyes on the young man. “I asked you to move to the front of the room. I don’t want my students scattered here, there, and everywhere now that such a great deal of surplus seating is available.” Ronald’s cheeks flushed slightly out of embarrassment, and he could feel all of the eyes on him as he gathered his things and moved to the front of the classroom. William’s piercing gaze bore into him as he took his place in an open seat, cold and unreadable. 

Ronald was brazen enough to sneak a glance at the stoic man once he sat down, trying to pick up on any resentment he might find in his face or tone of voice, but he should have known better than that. William wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve. He could feel a peculiar tension crackling between them, though it could have only been in the blonde’s mind; he wanted desperately to know what was running through the raven-haired man’s head.

As the school day progressed, Ronald found his thoughts drifting back and forth between paying attention to the lesson and thinking about Allister. He would occasionally remove the little piece of paper with his number on it from his pocket and stare at it. He knew that as soon as he returned to the dorm, he would be whipping out his phone and scheduling a play date with the other young man. He would probably regret not paying attention to the lesson as well as he ought to have, but it didn’t bother him much. 

When the class ended for the day, Ronald started packing his things long after everyone else was already heading out the door. He’d made something of a mess, picking apart pieces of his notebook and littering the entire surface of his desk with them, so he found himself having to tediously pick them up. The thought was not lost on him, though, that he was alone in the room with Mr. Spears. 

William merely stared at the blond as he waited for him to leave, and Ronald felt his gaze as he worked. As he placed his things in his bag, he saw the glint of the gold and white envelope at the bottom. His heart beat a bit more quickly at the sight of it, and he quite nearly reached in to pull it out and give it to the man who was so intently watching him. Instead, he merely buttoned the flap and slung the bag over his shoulder; something about doing so didn’t feel right at that point in time. With a little scowl to himself he started out the door, past William’s large desk. 

“You seemed distracted today, Knox,” the professor said as his student passed in front of him. Ronald quite nearly had a heart attack as his low voice filled the great hall, though he politely stopped to face him with a casual smile. 

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t get enough sleep last night. It was just hard to focus.” He hoped his voice came off as being aloof and detached, but he could hear the obvious strain in it himself. William merely narrowed his eyes at him. 

“This second semester promises to be all the more challenging than the first, so I suggest you care more wisely for your health in these next few months.” The blond reaper took the warning with a serious expression and a nod, wanting to say more to the man but unsure of just what that would be. Instead, he just bowed his head a little and bid the man a good afternoon. Little did he know, William had wanted to say more as well. 

In truth, it gave William a strange sense of satisfaction that the boy had been distracted. In his mind, that distraction was him. He leaned back in his seat and let his stared float toward the ceiling, that strange inkling he’d felt two days before returning to him. He supposed Ronald Knox was a rather attractive young reaper.


End file.
